Well… here we are… back at Perranporth! This time it’s just a 2 night stay though, making Phil keep to his word of helping me in-shoo-late my van. Mmhmm. It’s been a quiet night after a busy afternoon and evening, after decorating Jonathon’s house for x-mas (he has almost appalling taste in decorations! Although managed to find the best, and I reckon they look pretty good now) (if you’re reading this Jonathon, I mean appalling in the nicest way possible!!). Drove to Falmouth under a dramatic sky – behind me on the Lizard (apparently an old leper colony! Hence “Lizard” after scaly people…) the clouds were pitch black and looming, in front of me there was the low winter sun, catching on a rich variety of fluff, bulge, and wisp… all interwoven.
Arriving in Falmouth and parking up on my old road to collect my post, no one in; I’m told they’ll be back in a short hour, so I skip off to The Front for a “cheeky” half pint of Heligan Honey, and to steal the free WIFI.
It was strange, in The Front… it’s so the same but so different. Like the conversation I had with Mr Daniel John O’Shea “Falmouth hasn’t changed, but the people have left”. Not all the people have left, there’s still the regulars at the bar – the balding long haired chap in the plaid shirt, guy with a 1970’s haircut who brings his own tankard, and a bald chap who Dan tells me, plays bouzouki and is loud (if you’re wondering, it was a cyber version of O’Shea as he was on the MSN).
No Brian, though. The chap who always had one eyebrow raised over his chunky black frames. Perhaps he’s remained overseas for good. There was still Matt and whatshisfaceotherbarmanager behind the bar, still my drawing on the wall, still “Juggling Boy” and a few other long haired hippy sorts (and dog) wandering in, still the festive mulled cider for £2.50 a mug. But no loud (and getting louder when drunker) Norwegians, no blacksmiths breaking into song, no old men winking at us and joining in or making us dance (I guess it is a Friday, not a Monday), and no fellow classmates coming in and then being avoided or greeted depending on mood and inclination. The world (Falmouth) is a funny place, when all good is gone. So I did a Lisa, and had my drink and used my internet in the corner, on my own.
Things got even weirder when I went and knocked on my own front door! Of course, it’s not my front door anymore… for I don’t live there. Yeeeess I could have let myself in… I may or may not still have the key (for nostalgia purposes, perhaps?) but knocking seemed appropriate. The girls answered – they’re creatures of the party. The no singing/dancing/swearing owl & his frame had gone from the wall by the front door, the shoe rack was an actual real shoe rack rather than a bookcase, and my “please leave post at so and so” sign was still on the door! But it was a bit greener and furrier than before. Ahh the damp of 4 Marine Crescent. Nice girls, though. I was invited in briefly and we had a quick natter – the girl who has my old rooms likes my desk, and wants to add to the scribbles and pictures on it, they really liked the painting work I’d done in the downstairs bathroom & the antlers in the living room (they’ve become a great photo opportunity of anyone and everyone who appears, I may try find these girls on Facebook to see what our house looks like with other folks parties), and best of all, THEY HAD MY POST! Phew, panic over.
Back in the van, driving off to Perranporth. And so that’s where I am now.
This evening, with lack of Phil to talk due as his new woman is down from London (LONDON!!) I’ve drawn stuff, and nattered to a volunteer. Oh how we judge people on their looks… he looks pretty average – short hair, Super Dry t-shirt, hoody, jeans, trainers of sorts… but then he’s very much into things such as ley lines, the moon, and even witchcraft! Perhaps he was a Goth type back in the 80’s, he’s certainly got some appropriate tattoos on his arm for that.
Our rather good conversation trailed off slowly as the “bedtime” tea that Phil gave me set in, and so now I’m in bed (in the hostel!!! On a bunk!! Van has to stay condensation free for tomorrows in-shoo-lating) and soon to sleep. I do enjoy a good conversation.
Will I jump in the sea tomorrow? Maybe. I am in company of Phil, and that tends to end in the sea (the volunteer jumped in wearing just his summer suit yesterday, and he survived!). Currently I’m also fancying going down the hill into town to buy a pasty from the butchers, and acquiring some veg for the evening meal of pheasant. Hom nom nom.
Zzz… and now, to sleep… with the sound of windswept waves bashing about at the bottom of the cliff. Mmm…
10th December.
My! How the days fly! Isn’t that just such a fogeyish thing to say? It’s true, though.
I’m not going to give a complete rundown of what I’ve done today, I’m sure no one wants of needs to know everything… not even me if reading back in the future… however it mostly consisted of scrambling down a cliff path, hiking across a beach, a rainbow, splashing through (and half sinking) through the “Great River Perranporth” which runs across the beach (…soggy feet…), arting & crafting, insulating the roof of my van, eating a scrummy yummy pheasant with Phil (followed by ice-cream & brandy filled dark chocolates), and an evening half taken up with talking about much and many. Mostly Phil’s new giiirlfriend Clare, the website Plenty Of Fish, reincarnation, and me coming to work here. Eee! I’ve warned him that the hostel at some point may become totally over run with potato wedges in various flavours (Ally demands them, if she comes to visit us. In bulk. Wedges in bulk, that is… not Ally… although after all the wedges she could also be in bulk).
And now to finish it up, I’m in bed with a mug of “bedtime” tea, so if I start typing a bunch of bollocks then you can tell it’s set in…
Shit, and now I’ve actually forgotten what I was going to write in the first place… is this bedtime tea or memory loss tea?
I’m pretty damn excited about coming to work here starting March! Of course it’ll only be 20ish hours a week… so that’s roughly £6500 a year (before tax & all that stuff), but there is the potential to get a second job – I’ve been considering bar work at The Watering Hole down on the beach. Phil has also mentioned that Ben Attwell has mentioned the possibility of me getting into the whole “come stay at YHA’s in Cornwall!” sort of thing, not quite advertising but near enough, in my spare time (of course… there should be a budget for that!). And not forgetting getting my head down & cracking on with some ARRRT.
I can’t wait to have a few more shared meals with Phil (when we fancy being jointly sociable), and actually being able to talk to guests rather than have polite short conversation before cracking on with cleaning/cooking. AND BEING ON A CLIFF. And putting my input into the place (I’ve suggested Mooncup adverts for the back of toilet doors, as Phil would like it to be a green beacon hostel, and he’s into Surfers Against Sewage and Mooncup is waste free apart from the cardboard box & booklet which it comes with (which can be recycled!). Of course you can’t tell everyone to convert to Mooncup’s and the like, but I think the word of them should become far more widespread) (wow, long bracketed area).
Maybe I’ll get to paint some fun little things on walls, I reckon that it’s good to make guests smile, and hostels should NOT all look the same, and they should NOT all be magnolia in colour (this one isn’t magnolia… it is however a dodgy peach colour in most of the rooms… but not magnolia!). Yes of course there will also be downsides, I could get bored of spending all my nights in my van (but there’s ways around that), and there’s no definite chance of me being able to find elsewhere to store some of my stuff (I hope I do find some studio space), but… not many downsides. If I was anyone else, I don’t think I’d survive 10 months in my van. But I’m not anyone else. I am definitely Bex. Rebecca A.something Bourne. Funny, that.
Here’s to hoping that I won’t get fed up with Perranporth as I did Golant! Cheers! (with the rest of my almost cold bedtime tea).
And with that, I bid you bonne nuite.
11th December.
Insulation - DONE. Well, roof & majority of the sides, anyway. The important bits, certainly. Now all I have to do is make the roof look all pretty (bring on the hippy drapes!), and paint patterns (but not too many of them) on the wood panelled sides - the wood must still be able to breathe, though! And then... entertain company! My own little house. Very crowded house, it will be... with all my stuff... argh...
Does anyone ever read this? If you’re reading this, then please do leave a comment! It doesn’t have to be anything interesting, or clever, or even good… I’d just like to know who does, out of interest. Not that it really matters.
There have been loads of rainbows recently. Heres one Tregoss Barton (here) on The Lizard, and one from Perranporth beach.
Stuff I've done, finished or not!
First up! Thought from an image from "Girls Skate Fal". I do indeed with I could skateboard, though... but then, I wish I could do a lot of things. Am I down with the kids for making this piece?
Potential final logo for Aberfest, slightly changed from the last one. (UNFINISHED!)
Miss Scriven asked me to create an image of Dave and herself adventuring... whether she really meant it or not, who knows! Here is the basic starts (UNFINISHED!!!)
Other folks work!
Amber Cassidy. This piece is a wrap round cover for a compilation CD on “For Folks Sake”. Although looking at other pieces of her work I can see huge space for improvement this piece is really lovely! Especially the silver birches.
Hanna Konola. Very very simple, in some ways a bit TOO simple, but effective non the less. 
From the shop of “Hole in my pocket” on Folksy, a pretty fun card! I’ve got this on here more for the quote which I do certainly mean to use… (reminds me of an event years back, of my family sitting at the base of a large cross on the Cornish coast near Boswinger, singing “I’m a Scruffy bear and I don’t care, I look up peoples underwear!” – most of you won’t understand this, as it’s a song about my sisters bear, Scruffy) (it was really fun).
I found this via my friend and ex-classmate, Michaela Meadow. Although it's pretty - like her stuff, I don't think it is... I could be wrong! Who ever it is created by, I think it's GREAT.
Rebekka Seale. I’m not sure if she’s been doing the entire alphabet like I have (well, HAD), but this is laaavly. Nice wing jumpers.
Zander Olsen. I’ve seen a couple of bits of his work floating about the sea of interwebs recently, so I’m guessing they’re a bit “cool and hip”? But anyway. I like scenery. And arted up scenery.
Last but not least… William Arnold. Perhaps I’ve chosen this bit for a different reason to the others… I’m not too sure if this is one of his pinholes or not, but we went here in the summer. I remember we stood right here by the manmade waterfall and the spray wafted over us, which was rather refreshing as it was a pretty hot day. Previously we’d sat and had out normal weekend picnic lunch (which if you’ve read my posts from over the summer, you’ll be fully aware of) in a meadow. Everything was bright blue skied, and green leaved – full of colour, and we were very happy! Where as this photo seems dramatically bleak, with water which has turned to a deep flowing pool of black ink. Not sure if any of that made sense. It did to me. Talented chap, that Arnold. I wonder if he’s found out anything more about the big competition.
