57... Smiling and Counting Backwards

The Silver (Screen) Scream!

2017-05-01T15:12:00.000+01:00

The cinema used to be dark like the night.
Now there's too much light.
(The health and safety blight).
I have absolutely no desire to watch others watching the movie.
No matter if they're gorgeous, handsome, cool, or groovy.

And I find this obsession with food,
completely distasteful, even rude.
Why can't people watch a film for the odd hour,
Without having the desire to devour?

Instead of a wonderful visual/auditory display.
The munching, crunching, crackling gets in the way.

Some try to be quiet by slowly, relentlessly, rustling around.
Hence prolonging the irritating disturbing sound.
"Just take one out and stick it in your gob"!
Oh no I'm single handedly turning into an angry 😡 mob.
This annoying attempt to be quiet,
has turned into a rowdy, ruckus, riot.
Me - thought "for heavens sake put them down BE QUIET".

Why can't cinemas stock sweets in materials that don't make a noise?
Please make use of the designer girls and boys.
It can't be difficult to make silent wrappers in a silent container.
Surely with today's technology, it's a no- brainer.

Because of the hot dog, Popcorn, Fizzy drink, Combi;
The audience take it in turns to imitate a wandering zombie.
And now they need to empty their bladders and bowels.
SIT DOWN. The frustration inside me howls.

One after another they shuffle down the stairs.
Some even go in pairs!
Blocking the screen; I want to scream.
Heads down scrunched up to make themselves look small.
Which ... doesn't work at all.
I watched several stumble and thought "FALL ... JUST FALL".

I wish to sit in the dark and see not a soul.
In peace in quiet. This is my goal.
Okay ice cream Is silent.
Can we ban the rest? Would 'they' be compliant?

In my day couples would sit in the back row, grope and snog.
In a haze of cigarette smoke that resembled smog.
The passion went on for a couple of hours.
Whilst the males honed their seductive powers.
Mostly they were occupied and quite hushed.
And certainly didn't need to be shushed.
(Even though when the lights came on they looked a little flushed).
No privacy now; too light too bright.

Why can't cinemas block signals to phones?
So they can be left in the pockets or homes.
The distracting bright light catches the eye.
I'd like to snatch if from them and say "Why? "
The signals should be blocked when 'they' walk in the door.
Or am I just being a bore?

The ' I know my rights but not my responsibilities' crowd talks during the show.
And if one politely asks them to stop, they think you're having a 'go'.
When all you want to do is watch the show.
And the cinema staff are all young kids afraid to say a word.
It's absolutely absurd!

Now I often go to the cinema in the day, on my own.
For there are far less disturbances; no need to moan.
Not much food, fewer phones, no fumbling.
Less talking, wandering around, comments, whispering mumbling.
Just older folks with Silver hair.
Watching the silver screen, glad to be alive, glad to be there.

Now, if the railway lets me travel in a quiet train carriage.
Why can't the cinema? There would be no need to disparage.
Oh for a quiet cinema auditorium.
Perhaps we could have a trial moratorium.
Just one quiet screen.
T'would be a theatre goers dream.

P.S. Okay first world problem magnified.
Or is it just a generational collide?

PPS. I have just noticed to my horror.
Alcohol being served in the foyer.
Thanks Vue for your funky refurbishement idea.
Less inhibition ... far more racket I fear.

AND no 'duck off! I don't want to sit at home awaiting the DVD.
I want the big screen in all its rich colour, Dolby sound and majesty!

What film did I go to enjoy?
LION ..... a beautiful film about a man who was a brave little boy.

Mellow meerkat moment

2016-04-18T10:03:00.002+01:00

Escaping to nature is the way I deal with chaos and topsy-turvydom.
Such as watching this meerkat with his belly in the sun.
(with his chum)
Like him, being 'chilled' is probably the best way to be,
especially when surrounded by folk who all seem to be 'at sea'.

Jaw loose, mind still, relax ...
chillax ...chillax ... chillax ...

We all have worries: today I let mine float on by.
Refusing absolutely to ask the question; Why?
For there will always be somethings out of our control.
And I'm learning not to bang my head on that invisible brick wall.

Bruce said 'Become like water my friend' ... so I 'flow'

For a while I empty my mind and let all thoughts go.

I've watched others scurry often causing disarray,

invading the light and throwing unnecessary shadows on the day.

I try to smile, be sympathetic, then just gently step away.

I practice practising inner peace,

thereby developing my own thought police.

Einstein said imagination was more important than knowledge.
I'm now in a beautiful 'Avatar' forest walking amongst flowers watching bees forage.

Bliss ... I must do more of this.

Chatter has broken my peaceful, pleasant reverie.
I am aware of a child and mother staring at me.

Here earlier; the child says 'She's been there a long time'.
The mum smiles, notices I'm now penning this rhyme.

Then I smile at the meerkat basking under the red light.
He's all red and fluffy such a funny sight.

I've watched him and his chums for over half an hour
completely lost in this thought shower.

I look at the standing, sentry, suricate on his sandy ground.
He's totally focused, alert, looking around, and making a most peculiar sound.

Reminding me time to go, work to be done.
And hopefully soon he'll be allowed to have some fun.

So some must work while others play.
It has been a wonderful break in the day.

Bye Bye Beloved Baggins

2015-12-17T10:12:00.000+00:00

Baggins my beloved cat.

Yesterday Baggins my beautiful cat died

and I cried and cried and cried and cried.

He was my very special chum

he would accompany me in the garden come rain or sun.

When man was away

he stayed close by and didn't stray

He was playful mischievous and cute

at times manic, some called him a fruit loop.

All summer he sat in the big ash tree

and looked down on me.

He was a cat with attitude

a real cool moggy dude

He won't be there to grab my hair,

and claw my clothes as I walk by his chair.

I know, ridiculous these tears, he was only at cat

but he was without doubt my friend and that is that.

I will cry until I can't cry anymore,

then I'll stop staring at the cat flap and listening at the door.

And looking out for those muddy paws

There is a hole in the house where Bags used to be

This Xmas he won't be taking tinsel off the Christmas tree.

But in my heart he will always be with me.

Chocolate 'boys and girls'

2015-09-25T18:29:00.000+01:00

Whilst walking along a platform at an old railway station
I passed two adverts advertising a chocolate bar; once a favourite of this nation.
One depicted a boy dressed in a blue sailor suit.
I'm guessing at the time they thought he might look cute.
On inspection there is 5 different expressions on the face of the boy.
Apparently showing the experience of eating the chocolate. (at least that was their ploy)
Expressions were of desperation, pacification, expectation, acclamation, realization ... me thinks he looks quite scary.
These days I don't think it would sell the chocolate for his expressions would make folks wary.
T'was in 1902 that chocolate bar was made and marketed until 1976.
So the strange advertising obviously did its tricks. Encouraging people to have their chocolate fix!

The girls advert however with pretty dresses and bonnets; looked sweet.
I'm guessing that would encourage folks to buy a chocolate treat
However five girls want five boys?
To some t'would be a statement that annoys!

I found this interesting link below
if you want more info about the 'chocolate show'.
http://pocketbookuk.com/2013/11/26/frys-five-boys/

Flower Fairy

2015-09-18T10:25:00.000+01:00

Whilst taking tea in the garden with the elderly folks and their gnomes.

I observed a fairy queen, unmasked from a flower they had grown.

She was dressed beautifully in white silk.

Her dress whiter than snow; pure as milk.

Upon her head sat a cerise crown.

Around her neck a pretty purple scarf hung down.

She was dancing on the leaves of nearby trees.

Her skirt gently wafting in the breeze.

I say Nanny and Gramps 'there are fairies in your garden did you know?

They smile and say "they came to play and stayed; long times ago".

Aha! - now I know where the fairies hide.

Amongst the flower petals - secretly hidden inside.

Squabs that Squeek

2015-09-14T08:52:00.002+01:00

I spy mamma 'Pidge' in my pergola perching on her nest.
I watch her; she watches me: discouraging me from being be a pest.
Three weeks she has not moved.
I'm guessing she's nurturing her new brood.
Each day I peek;
for tis the babies that I seek.

I know they will be ugly,
with sparse feathers; ungainly not cuddly.
The sort of creatures only a mother could love.
Not cute like baby duck or baby dove.
I know there are squabs in that nest.
Because they squeek for mum; ah bless!
Then today to my delight, mum is nowhere in sight.
So I climb upon my garden chair.
And stretch out my arm; camera high in the air.

And to my amusement I find a baby pair.
Oops I spot mum on the aerial next door,
looking at me with her back to the shore.
I move quietly slowly away,
she flies back to settle and stay.

Mother 'Pidge' made her nest in my wisteria.
The safety of the eggs was her criteria.

knowing that pigeons are not great nest engineers.
I feared the nest would not last, and all would end in 'tweety tears'.
For every day there were twigs in a pile on the floor.
Then in would fly dad with plenty more.

However, the dad with his twigs did good.
The nest proved sturdy and has stood.

I understand that pigeons are very intelligent creatures.
Revered by some religions and have many redeeming features.
They pair for life, husband and wife,
and have been used in wars amidst the strife.

I will watch this family until they disappear and hope they return to my garden next year.

information gleaned from:-
(www.pigeoncontrolresourcecentre.org)

Bipolar ... A protective mum and her young one.

2015-08-09T11:18:00.004+01:00

Bipolar; it strikes at your heart.

Then if you are not careful it will tear you apart.

As a parent mental illness in a child you dread.

The worry gets into your head; your soul it can shred.

If you're not careful you'll 'cycle' with your child.

One day you are calm the next the anxiety may send your thoughts wild.

You want to hold them, take away the pain.

Restore the happiness and sanity again.

To drag them out of that dark place.

And restore the smile upon their face.

The uninitiated folks don't understand.

Because the 'Bip' person lives in a different land.

You have to smile support be there.

While watching that bundle of misery curled up in the chair

with unwashed face and greasy hair.

And the absolute countenance of despair.

Hear Rip Tear.

As I write this blog,

I'm awaiting her climb out of this fog.

Endless phone calls to try and disarm

her fragile state and restore the calm.

Attempting to dispel her feelings of doom and fear.

And praying that her mind will clear.

Wipe Away The Tear.

It's 4am I'm watching TED lectures of articulate girls with the same plight.

Talking about their 'Bip' experiences, trying to reassure myself twill be alright.

I worry about the medications; harmful side effects. This I dread.

What are they doing to her head?

Another Sleepless Night In My bed.

Hopefully the up will come soon.

Then I will sleep instead of keeping company with the moon.

Then we'll be back to fairy festivals, burlesque shows, tap dancing etc etc who knows.

Then My Heart Will Glow.

She is creative, charismatic and caring.

With a heart filled with fun and love that she's good at sharing.

Then she'll scare me by doing things that are quite daring!

She tells me she is crazy; Well ... maybe capricious.

However she has so much promise; yes she's auspicious.

Life is never boring.

Moods are always soaring.

You learn to let unpredictability take your hand.

And accept they live in an alternative land.

She is my beautiful daughter.

And into this confusing world I brought her.

And I will protect her and try keep her from harm.

And other misinformed folks comments I will disarm.

She is a precious gift in a way

Because she was born on my birthday.

Therefore we are forever intertwined

AND I will shred anyone who shows her anything but kind.

österreich

2015-07-15T22:39:00.000+01:00

I'm high on a hill looking for lonely goat - herd.

Which may sound strange even a little absurd.

I am in Austria and the 'Sound of Music' plays in my head
Julie Andrews... Christopher Plummer... von Trapp ... enough said!

A Hotel on the shore of Lake Wolfgangsee is my holiday home.
Tis from here that I explore and wander and roam.

Salzkammergut is such a stunning location.
This Austrian lake at Wolfgang such a peaceful destination.

On arrival it is hot 35 degrees.
And with not so much as hint of a breeze.

Tis not long before I'm swimming in the crystal clear lake; Temperature 26 degrees.
I float looking up at the mountains, green pastures and tall pine trees.

The passing paddle steamer Kaiser Franz Josef (built1873) honks its horn;
interrupting my meditation; for this is a place one could feel reborn.

Wolfgang isn't just picturesque and nice.
First and last impressions; it is a fabulous Austrian paradise.

Fantabulous ... Mr? Crane

2015-06-19T09:11:00.003+01:00

Is it a stork or a crane?

Matters not
tis only a name.

Hidden in the canal vegetation.
Covered by a green haven.

It suddenly takes flight.
A beautiful sight.
Elegant soaring outstretched wings
One of natures fabulous things.

In the distance he lands on the canal bank

Perfectly controlled - Bird swank.

The crane is watching behind the fronds of weeds.

Our boat catches up then up through the plane-trees he\she weaves.

We're disturbing this hunting for fish

Pike perch roach - what will be its supper dish?

We have been shadowing this Crane for nearly a mile.

However;

This time as we pass he does not move or fly ... I smile.

It just stands on the bank and stares.

Bored with us, were ignored as if our presence he's completely unawares.

Daughter explains that the crane is the bird of happiness.

Existing 60million years ago ... I've never heard of this I must confess!

Daughter read that its life span could be a thousand years ... really my dears!

Their powerful wings are said to convey souls to paradise

Or to higher levels of spiritual enlightenment ... how nice.

Symbols of longevity surrounded by ancient myths.

I am fascinated herewith.

"Mum" she sais "a thousand folded paper cranes will make a wish come true".

Hence for a gift she makes me a thousand and says "I grant a wish for you".

How absolutely fantabulous.

Reflections of green; serene

2015-05-03T21:58:00.002+01:00

It is wet, it is dark, it is night.
I'm in a cabin looking up at a boats skylight.

Lashing rain, loud, is falling above me on the bow.

Sounds like bubble wrap being popped; noisy now.

The boat is on the Canal Du Midi in France.
Its 2.20 am and "Il Pleut" is doing a merry dance.
There is a bang; the cabin is suddenly bright.
Lightening from thunder cuts through the dark night.

Yesterday we navigated fourteen locks in the sun.
Twas hot and pleasant; busy but fun.
From Castlenaudrey to Carcassonne we did float,
on a hired cruiser belonging to Le Boat.

Passing bright green willow trees bent over; dipping.
Their branches in the water were soaked; dripping.

Either-side of the canal were walls of Plane trees.
New bright green leaves moved gently in the breeze.

So peaceful. So beautiful; an etherial sight.
Mellow and green a meditational delight.

But tonight the noise, the light; sleep evades,
so in my head I play musical charades.
'Rain drops are falling on my head'
Melodies of songs while awake in my bed.
'I'm singing in the rain' a popular refrain.
'Tis raining tis pouring,
the old man is snoring'.

Eventually drifting into sleep,
My thoughts exhausted, brain videos replete.
Another day tomorrow in this green paradise.
And hopefully the sun will shine when I arise.

Phantasmagorical

2015-04-02T14:30:00.000+01:00

She is a fairy in her heart.
But she plays the human part.
Otherwise,
folks would think that she wasn't very smart.

Escapism is the word.
I'm being whisked off to something quite absurd.
To a faerie fest at daughters behest.
Tis a celebration of spring,
with lots of colour and all sorts of bling.
Glastonbury a place of legends;
And mythological havens.
Concerning kings and queens and the Holy grail.
And more than one mysterious tale.
They say Arthur's and Guinevere's graves were discovered here.
Or in Avalon; a place no one can find but tis supposedly near.

I see many ladies of a 'certain age',
dressed as if they are about to go on stage.
Long pretty robes brightly coloured sparkly hair.
And an abundance of fairy wings everywhere.
Gentlemen traders are also sporting wings,
while seated at their stalls selling their things.
There are talismans on sale from around the globe.
I pass a young man with an Italian one attached to his robe.

Beautiful young women adorned in fairy attire,
looking like works of art I smile and admire.
I have stepped into a fantasy world,
surrounded by unencumbered minds ... open unfurled.
I'm encompassed by fantasy folk from a gentle race;
All have a smile on their face.
Young girls looking colourful and sassy;
Amble past with laced ribbons upon their chassis.

Josephine Wall - A fantasy artist of some renown,
has travelled from another town.
Her paintings are so phantasmagorical; surreal.
Painted from the heart; you can feel.

Many folks are dressed like elves with pointy ears.
They look natural, as if they've been here for years and years.

Tonight there is the Faerie Ball,

a fun fantasy gathering for all.

Twill be an amazing sight

a twilight world; what a delight.

Yes I was whisked to a different place

and just looking at the photos has put a smile on my face.

Flat Cat

2015-03-25T09:46:00.000+00:00

Oh no, no, no, puddy-tat.

If you stay on there I will squash you flat.

I don't want fluffy ironing thank-you very much.

Even though you think cat fur would be a nice touch.

Closing your eyes and sticking out your tongue,

will not get the ironing done.

Oh well you've messed up the cover already.

So i'll leave you in your new found 'beddy'.

And the ironing is a chore.

One I absolutely abhor.

Hence my friend I'm leaving you there to snore.

Nimoy has gone but his legacy lives on.

2015-03-11T14:33:00.000+00:00

I had to write about Spock I couldn't let his passing go.

As a child I adored him and the show.

When I first saw Spock I was only twelve.

And I was instantly drawn to this grown up look alike elve.

Spock - The look, The smile and Those pointy ears.

He would banish all my childlike fears.

Nimoy the actor was playing a part;

beautifully ... it showed off his talent, his art.

Spock - a fabulous character; the original nerd. Smart.

Portrayed methinks by a man with a kind heart.

He made you feel safe because he oozed calm under periods of stress.

He had an aura unflappable calmness.

Trust. Yes you trusted him. Trust was the word.

A sci-fi character that I loved from the off; perhaps to some absurd.

Half Vulcan, Half Human; a Vulcan with a human mum.

This pairing produced a kind caring, logical, son.

I liked his raised eyebrows, dark hair and smooth complexion.

And strangely his almost lack of human affection.

Because secretly you knew it wasn't real.

His mothers genes gave him the ability to feel.

Spock appeared distant, quiet, reflective, dependable.

almost but not quite unfriend-able.

And that Vulcan Hand Gesture; that symbolic greeting.

inspired by a visit as a child to a Jewish religious meeting.

Twas Kohanims Symbol of Blessing

Perfect. Twas part of the charm; prepossessing.

Always logical wrapped in mythology

astrology, cosmology.

Brilliant was the Vulcan nerve pinch.

Such a cinch.

He squeezed the neck and the villains fell to the floor

Simple! No blood, No viscousness, No furore.

I think children need characters to believe in but not always people with tragic pasts.

Or folks that have survived nuclear blasts.

Spock was simple clever adorable.

and Nimoy made him plausible.

He was a hero to me LLandP.

A Fan - Frankie

(Live Long and Prosper)

Extraterrestrial Goose

2015-02-12T11:48:00.001+00:00

While I was out for a dander.

I noticed a goose; a gander.

I snapped off a photo in the diminishing light.

The sun was going down but twas still bright.

At home I smiled at the photograph.

for the picture of the goose now made me laugh.

The Canadian Goose now had a fluorescent beak;

Twas bright green; indeed it looked quite chic.

It certainly shines out bright,

and gives off an aura of rainbow light.

The sun throws a heart shape upon this creature.
A rather elegant feature.

Is this an extraterrestrial goose?
Or just my imagination playing fast and loose.

Wolves and White - Peach Delight

2015-02-09T11:51:00.002+00:00

January;
Flew by under a chilly mostly white sky.
I was transfixed by the 'wolf moon' shining super bright; white,
illuminating the black night.

'Wolf Moon" Aptly named after the starving howling wolves; menacing, lurking.
In the bitter frozen lands watching the human camps ... encircling.
Hungry and cold in the January snow, looking for food t'was the only place to go.
(of course that was in the Northern Hemisphere where winters are much harsher than here)
I've seen Images of them creatures looking up at the Moon.
One can imagine that howling soul-less frightening tune.

Now February is here with frosts and skies that change from fog to clear.
I'm looking out of the window tis a blanket of thick white.
Today at least its bright.
Yesterday it took half the day for the fog to clear.
It's an unpredictable time of the year.

Wrapping up warm I pull on my hiking boots and head to the rocky beach,
There will be a winter sunset and the sky should be orange and peach.
I stumble over seaweed strewn, slimy, slippery rocks heading for the slipway.
Once used by boats but that was another time another day.
Tis now covered in a blanket of washed up muculant mud weed.

Camera strapped to my hand, I'm precariously negotiating this uneven land.
I pass parents with four children building a driftwood den.
They are having a great time; good for them.
Above my head in this winters blue;
suddenly a fabulous hawk comes into view.
Tis catching the currents sweeping in huge circles over beach and sea.
What a view it has, I wish it could for a while swap places with me.

Bending down I pick up a driftwood cane
to keep me steady on this lethal terrain.
The mud is stunning, shiny, smooth, shimmering wet;
Pristine; untouched by the seagulls feet as yet.
A waterfall of silk gathered at the edges making a beach quilt.

I stay watching the white winter sun go down
then before it sets I traverse to higher ground.

Then I become obsessed with a tall dead twig of a plant or weed?
I know its fronds are open so it has spread a seed.
I photograph it with the backdrop of the sun and sky.
The den building beach family walk by and I hear a little one say 'whats she doing and why'?

Now cold, I must say goodbye and walk home under a fabulous orange - red - peachy sky.

Harrumph!

2015-01-14T17:40:00.000+00:00

The Man and the puddy tat are asleep in my bed.

Their snores are a-rattling in my head.

Tis enough to have a primate snoring next to me.

To have a carnivora join in I find most irritatingly.

Sonorous - snuffling - sibilating - sounds fill the air.

Why tis a cat-man orchestra lying there.

What a pair!

I slip away to the kitchen to make tea,
as there is no respite in this bed for me.
When I return man and cat have awoke.
Man is trying to use his iPad ... tis a joke.
Bags' is now facing the other way.
He's irritated by the computer play.
Sir feline is now most displeased,
that man has put him ill at ease.
The look on his face says it all.
He's one very grumpy fur ball.

Man always sais "I don't like your raggedy fur-ball creature, it has not one definable redeeming feature".

REALLY!

A shame ... because looking at these pictures, me-thinks he loves you dearly.

Happy New Year! 2015

2015-01-01T19:08:00.000+00:00

New Years Eve aboard a boat on the Thames
I'm waiting and watching as the old year ends.
Hundreds of tiny black figures line the shore.
Standing on the bridges are hundreds more.
Heads turned up to the multi-coloured brilliant sky.
All delighted by the fireworks exploding way up high.
It is stunning ... beautiful,... surreal.
The anticipation the excitement one can feel.
Standing with Man on the stern of the boat
tis a little chilly; Im not wearing my coat.

His arm comes around me to keep me warm.
I can't take my eyes off of the firework storm.
The noise of the explosions fill the night air, along with singing and laughter everywhere.
Its great to be a part of it; the occasion; to share.
Such revelry, such celebrations,
happening across the seas in so many nations.

Why is it? why do people wait for hours in the cold,
from the very young to the very old?
I guess they're renewing optimism for another year,
Or saying we've survived - were still here.
In some places its a ritual it has to be done.
Or the next year may not be a good one.

Whatever the reasons it doesn't matters at all.
Its just great to be a part of a global ball.

Folks kiss and hug as they watch the hands pass the midnight time.
Then link arms, drink champagne, and sing Auld Land Syne.
Tis now 2015 so best wishes and Happy New Year
to anyone reading this blog this year.

'Breaux"

2014-12-22T08:14:00.000+00:00

Driving along as you do,
as always,
looking for something interesting and new.
I peered over a wall expecting a view.
A face appeared it was such a 'breaux'
(slang for exceptional sweetness level)
I thought how adorable - woo hoo!

Its chums in the distance were having a chew.

I approach. Wow! - your such a magnificent beastie.
I hope you don't end up as someones feastie.

I'd quite like to comb your fringe, tidy your hair,

but with those sticky-up horns I don't dare.

'Dossan' they call that fringe; protects from the snow and cold winter air.

You see they're Highland cattle - and its 'nippy, up there.

I can imagine them in the Scottish hills appearing out of the mist; the fog.
If you'd never seen one before you'd be afraid ... but also agog.

Darkness is soon to descend.
My rendeview with these magnificent creatures must end.

So I must say goodbye until we meet again.

The Lighthouse and the Dalek

2014-12-04T10:20:00.000+00:00

We rattle down a muddy pot holed road,
to a place that tonight will be our abode.

Tis a light house where choose to stay.
It once guided 18th century seafarers on their way.

In the distance the white round shape looms into view.
Bright and white and the paint looks new.

I look up towards the glass above the dome where there sits a light.
And incongruously just below it is a 'Tardis', an old police box on a balcony set to the right.

Parking up in the dark
I smile; a quirky place to stay; what a lark.

Man rings the bell twice, eventually the door is opened wide.
The aroma of josticks fills the air as we step inside.
Fish are swimming in a colourful container on the wall.
And candles are burning in this rather cosy entrance hall.

A large amethyst crystal sits upon a shelf.
Someone in this place likes incense and candles and crystals; just like myself.

Beyond an archway is a spiral stairway.
Leading up to the rooms where we are to stay.

Michael the owner explains the facilities.
And how to use all the utilities.

A young boisterous black and white sheepdog appears.
It jumps up and dashes around; man calms it by tickling its ears.

The proprietor leads the way up the spiral stair.
Glancing down I notice something unusual hiding under there

Tis a Dalek lurking menacingly.
And as a child this scary 'mutant container' used to terrify me.
Tis a thing I used to ... hate!
Especially when it shouted loudly exterminate ... exterminate ......EXTERMINATE!

(I'm told this piece of sci-fi history.
is signed by a "Doctor" Jon Pertwee).

Adjacent to the 'Tardis' on the balcony up high,
is a hot tub where one can sit and view the estuary and the sky.

Dropping my bag in the room by the door

I can't wait to climb the winding staircase and explore.

Holding the rope balustrade I venture up to the roof top garden and step out on to a circular decking.
There are sculptures of Buddha and plants, low level lighting, and seating.

Leaving this peaceful place I continue on up the spiral steps to the lantern room.

For this is where the lantern used to shine, alerting ships of danger to prevent certain doom.

This quirky room is a delightful spherical nook.
I sit on the comfortable round settee and just soak up the ambience and look.
There are famous names on brass under a glass plate on the floor.
Of scientists adventurers and doctors; why they're there I'm not sure.

Tis now getting dark and time to venture into the hot-tub.
Before we pop out to find some 'grub'.

Man looks at me and sais 'its windy and cold'.
I throw my cozy on and declare I'm going up - (one has to be bold).
Holding the rope balustrade we climb back up the winding staircase and step out on to the now dimly lit but cosy balcony.
Tis chilly and cold; I slide into the hot water happily.
Floating in the hot tub looking out at the water, the golden head of the Buddha now catching the crescent moons rays;
Oh happy days.
Absolute bliss.
My idea of heaven is this.
I can feel the winter chill on my face,
but the stars above my head and the warmth I embrace.

Later we find an old pub closeby where we eat.
whilst listening to a local band playing guitars; neat.

After a peaceful slumber in our 'sleighbed".
We descend the spiral stairs, and for breakfast we head.

A log burning stove was burning in the breakfast place and an extremely large breakfast put a smile on Mans face.

Then we said our goodbyes and shut the door and rattled down the potholed track once more.

Twas simply a peaceful whacky place to stay and I shall venture back there one day.

www.westusklighthouse.co.uk

The Tardis and the Dalek were props in the TV series Doctor Who.
Originally screened in 1963 ... and still in production today albeit in an updated form.

Egyptian - Isis - Priceless

2014-11-17T14:49:00.002+00:00

Sometimes you see something that stops you in your tracks.

Then you pause and then you look back.

I was out to lunch with my little 'skin and blister';

Sister.

In a place that oozes charm and an abundance of creativity.

Where the artworks matched perfectly my own proclivity.

The food was simple whole and healthy.

And there were 'ladies lunching that gave off the air of wealthy'.

After munching and crunching

we explored the tiny galleries upstairs, where a multitude of artist were plying their wares.

From knitted handbags to jewellery, paintings and pots.

such originality, such innovation, such imagination;

Of which there was lots and lots.

I glanced into a small studio gallery whereupon a contrast of dark and light

captured my sight.

Twas a bronze figure resting on white - stark white.

A complete delight!

It was the shape, the curves, the figure that captured my attention.

The detail from the hair to the shoulders to her toes; Perfect dimension.
I couldn't resist to touch resting my hand on her shoulder so cold so smooth.
Her whole demeanour chilled, relaxed, she was reading;
Invoking feelings of calm ... soothe.

I seek permission to photograph this beautiful life size creature.
Her undulating curves a captivating feature.
An artist called Ann informs me I can.
A phone call to the creator gives me permission to continue my mission.

I'm told I can photograph any angle any pose and I smile as the artist said 'including up her nose'.

Then I discover that the Sculptor has detailed in depth the making of this fabulous piece.
He has captured an aura surrounding her; tis peace, perfect peace.

The making of Isis

I can imagine the hands plaiting and twisting the clay to fashion the hair.
It's so beautiful - it must have taken a lot of patience and a great deal of care.

The colours in the bronze evoke such warmth; rich chocolate, umber orangey, earthy hues.
She reminds me of a Greek Muse.

Cold to the touch yet warmth to the eyes.
Yin and yang ... clever the colour; the choice wise.

And the name Isis?

I read she was an Egyptian goddess and apparently one of the nicest.
Words linked with her are magical, mother, moon, healer.
All in all a crowd pleaser.

Powerful - protecting people in need.
A goddess of love fertility; even protector of the dead; there is so much more in the books I read.

A good day - I've learnt all about making bronzes with clay.
And about a goddess from far far away.
And come across a sculptor whose work I admire
And I'm fascinated by the pieces he just made with wire.

Apologies that my camera wasn't set properly for the dark and the light.
so if you wish to see better photos go to the artists site: http://www.mcswright.co.uk.

Frankie

100 Years ... 1000's of Tears

2014-11-13T10:56:00.000+00:00

888246

'Blood swept land and seas of red'

This is how we remembered our dead.

The poppies filled the moat surrounding Londons famous Tower.

And thousands of folk filed past ... hour after hour.

Blood and beauty.

Hundreds of young men died doing their duty.

Attached to the railings are simple wooden crosses.

From families of the soldiers each mourning their losses.

And yes some lost more than one.

Villages decimated ... 'The Battle of the Somme'.

Heartbreaking to read the ages on the crosses; kids ... youngsters.

Sent out as warriors hunters.

Country lads from simple country lives.

Slaughtered ... It is right that their memory survives.

Whether you believe in war or not.

They had no choice .... such was their lot.

They should be remembered and not just forgot.

There is a camaraderie amongst the crowd,

Heartfelt sympathy and sadness not said out loud.

The comrades, the families the friends, have already visualised the bloody and broken.
The ceramic poppy is to remember their pre war loved one ... something beautiful - tis a symbol - a token.

Created by Ceramic Artist Paul Cummings

Stage Designer Tom Piper

Perfume Still on a Rocky Hill

2014-11-04T09:01:00.002+00:00

Gourdon
There sits upon an isolated rock-hill a medieval perfume still.
Medieval alchemists
once reposed here,
making perfumes for sale far and near.
I am fascinated that someone years ago hand hammered this wonderfully shaped copper pot.

I could take it home I like it a lot.

This old Tarnished distilling equipment sits on the stone path outside.

Tis a sculptural work of art itself; it reeks perfume and pride.

Glass containers blue, green, rusty brown, sit on a shelf catching the sun.

I crouch down to glimpse the reflections of the plants, trees, houses, people; a microscopic world captured in each one.

There are shops selling baubles and beads.

Outside hangs shiny heart shaped glass, on miniature leather leads.

And there is more expensive jewellery for the discerning,

silver and topaz if you have the yearning.

Perfumeries are everywhere tucked away in little corners in the cooler air.

If I had the time I would spend hours there.

Hundreds of miniature bottles are lined up on the shelves.

I smile for I can imagine them being filled by perfume elves.

There are so many pretty things to see, like these old stone steps with the brightly coloured ceramic pottery.

A man sits outside his emporium which sells teddies and the odd floppy eared bunny.
A cute way methinks to earn money.
Green shoes, green trews, longish hair, straw hat, absorbed in his newspaper reading about this and that.
I like his style.
I snap the picture as I walk away and smile.

The drive up to Gourdon was stunning, on one side the road dropped steeply down,

below were canyons, gorges, vegetation and trees, and we went round and round.

Bends zig zagging; at one time the driver went too fast and his wife was a-nagging.

So much undulating rocks and green.

Twould look fabulous in a movie scene.

Gourdon located in the Alps - Maritime region

Frankie

Knitted Halloween

2014-11-03T11:59:00.000+00:00

A splash of colour catches my attention.

Tis a most creepy convention.

Looking out of this window in Salisbury

are knitted ghosts and ghouls a - smiling at me.

Orange, black, blue and green;

such a colourful theme.

And yes 'tis nearly Halloween!

Nice - Rich, Historical even Allegorical

2014-10-29T10:55:00.000+00:00

Nice ... colourful, rich, warm colours of terracottas peaches and cream.

Trams running on carpets of green.

And for a dramatic scene
We head for the steps to Castle Hill.
We could take the lift but we don't - its healthier to walk; it may be damp but tis still.
There are stunning views from the steps as we climb up high, the sky above is grey.
In the distance I see the bright light from the planes at the airport taking off across the bay.

Up said hill we discover colourful mosaics under our feet.
Ancient Roman ruins being excavated; work in progress, not yet complete.
There is something special about the light so clear so bright.
No wonder Matisse loved this city tis a place for artists and writers alike.

In the distance is the 'Promenade de Anglais'.
Here people meander, bicycle, socialise and talk, its busy all day.
The large sweep of the Bay of Angels bordering Nice reminds me of a ring; the blue water is the stone. No wonder the wealthy choose it as their home.
This capital of the Cote d'azure is a jewel to be sure.

I'm Intrigued by the name 'Bay of Angels', what is the derivation, why?
I discover that there are three legends from times gone by.
One says that Adam and Eve were guided here by angels having been barred from paradise.
Because Nice was so beautiful and nice.
Another talks about the angel fish that were prolific in the bay.
Another story is about a christian girl persecuted by the Romans they attempted to kill her in a horrid way.

While ambling through the old town we stop for a French coffee in a lovely old square; Place Rossetti.
In front of me is a building bedecked with sculptures the Cathederale Sainte-Reparate.
Leaving my companions to their coffee I slip into the side door of this church to discover a most beautiful 18th Century baroque interior.
Tis such a surprise this magnificent interior.
Rich classical religious music fills my ears - deeply relaxing; serene.
Wonderful oil paintings adorn the walls, this place is a dream.
People praying; peace prevailing within the semi lit auditorium.
I'm captivated by this beautiful hidden gem with its artwork and sculptures; tis quite an emporium.

Later we walk along the Promenade du Paillon where to my delight and surprise over a 120 fountains were shooting water up towards the ever-changing sky
Then blankets of mist rose in a fog from the vents; then there was more!
When cleared ... the reflections of the beautiful buildings were mirrored on the floor.

Suddenly a troupe young people dressed in rubber rings and flippers appear.
Young men in bikinis and girls wearing allsorts of colourful gear.
They frolicked and fooled about
There was laughter and the odd excitable shout
I was quite sure they were not meant to be there
However their happiness was infectious and they didn't seem to give a care

As I watch I chuckle remembering a poem by a brit Edward Lear
penned about here.
There was an old person of Nice
Whose associates were usually geese
They walked out together in all sorts of weather
That affable person of Nice!

Fashion is every where - smart mannequins stand in the alleyways,
some in windows and in stairways - Nice is a fashionable city in so many ways.

I spent the day ambling about until my feet could walk no more.
but I didn't see the half of it - hence I must return for there is so much more to explore.

And I must pen another post about this place.
one is not enough to describe its charm and grace.
Frankie

Man vs Pigeons

2014-10-26T23:35:00.002+00:00

Pigeon Poo hair on sculptures of gold that would be otherwise bald.

Poo on the head and the chest,
methinks the muscular Men are not looking their best.

But if they continue to stick their heads in the cloud they'll end up wearing a pigeon poo shroud.

Was this in the sculptors plan letting the pigeons make a mockery of Man?

I've no doubt twill be the fusion of nature and man. No absurd.
It's just the pigeon is a pesky bird!