I've sent 3 new originals to the Relegacy Gallery in Barbican, Plymouth (since the Love Bunny was so popular). Indian ink, watercolour, and gouache... plus a lot of GIRLINESS.
Some experimental doodling, to go with this piece of writing which I did when half awake:"A fair distance away from that which we call “civilisation” was a cave – perhaps more like the burrow of a furred creature than a cave, as it was a collection of tunnels which to an outsider would be most baffling; to she, however, it was a safe quiet place to live until any great disruption came along.
She was one of many years but apparently not much age, she had become at one with the earth and so was at par with its rhythms and ways; she would return to ground when the days became too dark and chill then restore herself to above when the snowdrops weaned their way upwards over the icy crunch… and so she would be renewed, refreshed, ready to restart the year like a new green shoot.
Life went on, as it had done for many a moon.
Of course, this had not always been the way – she had once been like you or I, a soul brought up amongst others whether it be in the terrifying automated rattle of a bustling city, or to the slow lull of village life; she had been born a babe, grown a girl, and formed a woman."
I LIKE IT. Though the picture isn't quite right, it seems.
A weird freaky owl bird, who would like to propose to you with some leaves.Mmm… well, that was a nice Monday! After a lazy morning we passed by the Tywardreath butchers to grab a pasty and an egg & bacon pie before driving down to catch the car ferry over the river to Bodinnick; Hector had never been on a car ferry before! And he’s not being driven on to many more if they all cost £3.50 for a 2 minute/SECOND journey…! From Bodinnick we drove to Lansallos where I found some sheep under the trees next to the car park – the sort of sheep which look a little like angry dogs in the face department. After a look about the old gravestones in the churchyard and a snoop about the church (it’s a really rather nice one, the pews are really old and carved and they’ve recycled some headstones and are using them as the floor), we met a bat in the church porch and then a big 4 inch long bright green caterpillar with purple flashes on it’s back and a big black spike on it’s bum… naturally we disturbed it’s peaceful existence by picking it up on a stick to get a better look. Onwards! Down to the beach! But not before stopping in the woods to wee behind a tree, and then in a field overlooking the sea to eat our lunch (shock horror, not French bread and salted butter) and then FAINT! I had some odd sort of hiccup which was really rather painful and then lead on to me feeling dizzy from the pain, leaning sideways to stay vaguely upright, and blacking out! It’s never happened before, ever… it was pretty nasty really. Didn’t feel right for a short time afterwards. But I’m still alive now, so it’s all good because I really rather like life!
Anyway, away from talk of almost dying. Down on the beach the swell was rather mighty due to the significant breeze, and the sun couldn’t decide whether it was out or not. Sitting on a flat rock part way up the cliff was nice, and then wandering along the beach avoiding being washed away, picking up tiny green bits of sea glass. Sit on the cliff again (it’s my weekend, I’m allowed to sit down and be lazy!) before climbing the cliff hill where at the top we found an apple tree which had the most deliciously sweet apples – naturally the tree was climbed and some of the better apples were picked and put ironically into a plastic Tesco’s carrier bag. On we walked, through the fields and down a lane; lanes always make me want to sing, quite often in a ridiculous voice. Leaving the lane we went into the fields again where the footpath lead past a small rock post in the middle; on approach we saw a big white thing next to it which Will exclaimed to be a total whopper (we’re talking mushrooms, here – if you ever walk with the chap you will find the majority of conversation leads to “Oh! Another apple tree!” or “Ahh! Is it a field mushroom?”). Getting closer he reckoned that it was not actually a whopper of a mushroom, but actually just a white rock… on tapping this rock with his toe, he found that it was actually a giant puffball. Conversation then lead on to whether puffballs were edible or not, which we thought not but after managing not to throw it and see if it’d explode (it wouldn’t, it wasn’t old and saggy enough) we brought it along for the rest of the walk back up to the church by Lansallos. This whopper was roughly the side of someone’s brain and even had the brain stem area, and became Rock Bottom Owl’s dashboard buddy for the drive home. Getting home we did research in a couple of books (“Food For Free” pocket book, and hardback covered “A Greener Life”) and found that these giant puffballs were indeed edible in the pure white skinned state such as we had found it in; this caused great excitement and so I then sliced the beast into centimetre thick slices before removing unsavoury yellow areas (not many) and covering with whisked egg and bread crumbs then frying them in sausage fat and butter. Supper was green beans from the garden, the afore mentioned bread crumbed puffball slices, some of Will’s homemade apple chutney (yum!) and 3 rather tasty mustard and honey pork sausages… all in all, it was a blimmin’ great meal and I can’t wait for the next time I find a puffball in such good condition (I read that they can grow to about 4 foot wide in diameter, BLIMEY).
(The puffball & Mr Arnold).
I should now be well and truly asleep as I’m up at 6am to pick the Norwegian’s up from the station at 6:30ish, eeek! VERY VERY EXCITED! Good night for now.
Update: it is now 12:10 (midday). THE NORWEGIAN’S ARE HERE. They are resting their little Norwegian heads on my beds.
Wow… so today is now Wednesday 21st September… where is the time going! I’ll write about the Norwegian’s stay after I have written how to make what I am currently eating, coz it is REALLY REALLY GOOD!!!
How to make Bex’s really good yummy stew which she is eating right this second:
Feeds an average of 4, depending on how hungry you are
Ingredients
A little oil (of the edible sort, any kind will do – I used extra virgin olive oil as that’s all I had)
2 onions (I used 1 red, 1 white – its what I had!)
Pork mince (big pack, the sort which might feed 4 people in a spag bog)
8 slices sliced up bacon (or there about, I used un-smoked but smoked could work too)
2 apples (any size, variety, the bigger the better I say)
1 tin sliced pineapple in juice
1 carrot (this should be roughly gratered)
1 tin chickpeas (drained)
Enough veggie stock (bouillon) to taste, 1 or 2 tbsp perhaps (with water, to mush)
1 tbsp turmeric powder (not too much, just enough to colour & slightly taste)
1 tbsp cumin (again, shouldn’t be overbearing taste wise)
1 tbsp dark or light brown sugar
A handful of chunkily chopped green beans (broad beans?)
50-100g blended / mushed / generally pummelled raisins
2 tbsp carob powder
3 tbsp ground nuts (brazils / cashews / almonds…)
1. Heat the oil in a relatively big metal pan, add roughly chopped onion and when it has started to soften add the pork mince.
2. Once mince had almost fully cooked (not many pink bits left to see) add in chunks of apple (whatever size you like) along with the tin of pineapple and all of it’s juice.
3. Throw in the rest of the ingredients along with enough water to let it all go a bit mushy. KEEP AN EYE ON THE BACON! Watch the bacon until you can see it is fully cooked, we don’t want any ill people on our hands (but don’t pre-cook it, we don’t want to be losing any of the juices!!).
4. The last 3 ingredients are to add a final bit of sweetness – I added them in the form of an experiment as I had some previously made “raw food cookies”. If you’d like to make the batch of raw food cookies and then eat some, add some to this stew mixture the recipe is:
¾ cup of nuts (I used mostly cashews and brazils)
¼ cup raw carob powder (looks a little like cocoa, find in “hippy” food shops)
1 cup raisins
Blend the above ingredients together, using one of those scary whooshing chopping blendy machines, add water until it forms together to make a sort of dough rather than a crumble. Make in to balls about the size of ping pong balls (although sometimes you’ll only want to eat an amount half the size of a ping pong ball, depending on how raisin friendly you are). They’re also quite nice when rolled in chopped / powdered almonds.
5. Leave the mush to contemplate life for a while, eat whenever you like. I didn’t eat any form of carbohydrate with my stew mush as I decided that amongst all those ingredients there was probably something carby anyway, and I was pretty full in the end anyway.
Enjoy!
Right… now TODAY is Monday 26th September! I have 17 or 18 more working days at Golant YHA… holy shitcakes.
Anyway, I shall now update fully with my past two or three? Weeks happenings…
So the Norwegian’s got here, and after a morning (and early afternoon) of sleeping, snoozing, and being lazy around St Austell we decided to go off in the early evening to Fowey where we went for the second time to The Boathouse.
The Boathouse, as I may have mentioned before, is an Italian restaurant almost right on the estuary. Since the Norwegian’s decided it was too cold to sit outside (though it’s much colder in Norway) we sat inside, and ordered pizza’s and pasta; this time round I chose a seafood pizza which was topped with king prawns, squid, mussels, lemon, and possibly something else but I’m not too sure. After copious amounts of food we decided to nurse our food babies and watch the water go by – a friendly lady approached us and mentioned that we made a most excellent picture, and so I got her to take a photo (it IS nice).
Wednesday! Off to Boscastle I drive, again. Arrived roughly lunchtime to we wandered in to The Cobweb Inn for some face stuffing. The Cobweb is an age old place although the food is not terribly amazing – mostly just average pub grub (I had sweet chilli pork balls)… thankfully the aesthetics of the place make up for it’s food (and the pint of Stowfords Press helped too – I didn’t have to drive for another 4 hours!). The ceiling is covered with hanging bottles, tankards, mugs, and other container related items along with a thick layer of dust – if the YHA health and safety inspector chap (CMI) ever visited there, he might have a few hundred children. Admittedly the tables and actual “public” areas were all clean, it was just the characterful dusty ceiling. On the mention of characters, there was one sitting at the bar – long grey hair tied back in a ponytail, beard, baseball cap, black and white sports style jacket with world flags on it, flowery surf style shorts, and luminous pink knee high socks with neon green blue and yellow spots. And trainers. I love these sorts of people, they show me that not all people over a certain age are destined to wear purely only Marks & Spencers items.
Staggering on once again with food babies and a tad giggly due to the alcohol intake we wandered along the tourist avoiding cobbled street and a brief look in to the little gallery; onwards again I took them along the harbour wall which said “not a footpath, slippery when wet” which I had found with Mr Arnold. The tide was well and truly out this time but you could hear an impressive booming sound when the waves outside the harbour went in to the cliff walls. I went off, as I do, and lone scrambled up the cliff on to a footpath which took me on to the large lump of rock which blocks and protects Boscastle village from the outside sea, for some reason or another I hadn’t gone up there last time, but I’m glad I did. From the top it felt like I had an aerial view of the whole place and the Norwegian’s were just little specks sitting down on the jetty below; on the other side the sun shone on the sea, turning it’s colour a vivid turquoise.
(View from the top of the Boscastle bit).
I scampered down the hill again to try persuade the other two to come see, but failed and so after a brief leap in to the National Trust toilets (I forgot pints did that) we went to the Museum of Witchcraft (again!); this time I was armed with sketchbook & pencil.
Things I drew / wrote down:
-A chap called John William Waterhouse does nice paintings of witches and the like.
-A witch in some part of Britain used to display a clay hand in her window; if it was turned to face outwards with the red heart showing in it’s palm then she was open for business, if the heart was not on show then she was not open.
-Little wooden / stone carved charms of a ladies arm and hand with her thumb sandwiched between her fore and middle finger; protection from the evil eye and a powerful sign of feminism.
-The hand of Fatima (another charm) also protects from the evil eye.
-If your wife is out with “Mr Wonderful” and you’re a tad jealous and aren’t sure what her intentions are, then prick a needle in to the toe of one of her shoes; this will prick her conscious and make sure she doesn’t do anything “bad”. Apparently.
-Black Doris; can’t quite remember what she had to do, but she owned a red ladies shoe in which she had encased a dead (frozen naturally) sparrow in bee’s wax.
-Harm (and care) can be done with the use of “poppets”. These are human shaped dolls / similar which are personal to that person in some way (they may look like them, and the spell accuracy can be improved by knitting their hair in to the poppet or something similar) (pubes seem popular it seems!). Basically, voodoo dolls.
-It was traditionally an Easter HARE, not rabbit.
-Witches often change in to the form of a hare, so legend has it (on this note – I do like to believe some aspects of all this witchcraft stuff but I don’t quite believe that a being can change shape and turn in to a hare or any other creature for that matter).
-The staffs / sticks that witches often carry are called “stangs”. They must have V ends (not just straight). If nothing else, the V place is a good thumb rest.
-Dew is very good for healing, back in the day many folk could be seen collecting it carefully in the mornings. This could be done by placing a clean piece of fabric over a patch of grass and then squeezing the moisture out of it (that’d be the dew, unless it had rained – then it’d be rain).
-“No pisky could hurt a man if his coat was inside out”. Good to know.
-There is witchcraft used in Christianity; votive body parts made out of wax are left in front of saints and shrines and such, like if you have a broken arm perhaps you’d leave a wax arm there.
-I learnt how to properly draw labyrinths, they can put you in to a trance and are often found in south west England (I remember finding one on the Isles of Scilly).
-Rowan berry charms should be on a red thread and made in a circle, then worn or hung above the door.
-To curse someone, one way is to get a black lemon (gone off?) and to tie it up with black thread and stick pins in to it. This should be hidden in the curse victims home.
-If you tie a hag stone (stone with a natural hole in it) to your keys then you will never lose them and your home will remain safe when locked.
-Serpents / dragons drawn / made in a circle are a sign of eternity and the cyclic nature of existence.
-Black or dark mirrors help to see and / or contact spirits. This is called scrying.
-People originally put horse brasses on their horses to deflect bad luck and evil spirits. Some used to have pentacles and such like on them although these days they are mostly less spiritual images it seems.
-Mounted horse tails (not attached to the horse, but detached from a hopefully dead horse) bring long life, strength, and health to horses.
-Old Nick is a funny half-human half-goat creature…
-I took a 2p tarot card reading thing (I doubt it’s accurate!) and I got the card “temperance” (Naín). Although their reading said something different with that card, my cards say “The spirit of the mother of Sichen gave him comfort and help during his trip: care”.
-I’d like to do some research in to a character called Cernunnos… I remember Imy painting him on to the side of Alasdair’s van up in Scotland.
-Some charms: an anchor = hope, a cross = faith, a heart = charity. Rabbit’s feet and cats (especially black ones) are also good.
-When wearing coral, one cannot be cursed or “overlooked”.
-If you wear a bag of moles feet round your neck you will be cured from toothache & cramp.
Wasn’t that interesting? Heh. To ME it was! Anyhoo, on from there we did as I did before and went via the lovely local ice-cream place (lavender & honey… as before) and then tootled off home to Golant where I found my parents who had travelled down from Reigate for my graduation.
That night we all (myself, the Norwegians & parents) went off to Fowey to eat out again! It was most odd being driven about, for one I wasn’t the one driving, for two I was on the passenger side, and for three I was in the back. WEIRD. So I sat up like a Meer cat the entire journey trying to see where we were going. We ate at a place two doors down from The Boathouse, Food For Thought. From the outside it seems like a fairly normal place, it’s nothing showy, looks very harbour side… but I’d heard good reviews, and since the (one and only) vegetarian option was halloumi cheese rather than something crap like a veggie burger or the normal – feta cheese parcels, it must be good.
IT WAS.
We walked in and instantly felt a little under dressed as I had underestimated the dress code (well, I say code… there wasn’t really one but everyone else was more dressed up) and then were seated where we at once had napkins placed OVER our laps, not just left for us to do with what we pleased.
Menus were given out – my dad last, ladies go first! And a wine list was given to us… since I drink most wines if they don’t taste of acid I let the Norwegians choose. The wine was brought to us and offered to my dad, since he was paying (how they knew that who knows). He doesn’t drink really so he said no and they poured a little in to my glass. Just a little. A while after, after they had been hovering over me Silje decided to remind me that I was meant to be TRYING the wine before anyone else could have some! I can safely say that has NEVER happened to me before. So I tried it and pretty much said it was fine before it touched my lips, it’s wine! It’ll be fine! Especially if it’s of THAT price!! Perhaps when I get older I’ll get a proper taste for things.
My meal was most delicious, and if it had been half the size and half the price it would have been PERFECT as I (sadly) was unable to finish my main course.
We were given warm rolls and butter as the pre-starter bits, and then for starters I had raw, yes, RAW scallops with a very artistic pile of salad on top and some mango goo and some sweet chilli sauce (spread artistically around the plate). I was a little concerned by the fact that the scallops were raw, I’ve only ever had them cooked but I supposed that since they were raw it’d mean that they were well and truly FRESH. They tasted delicious. Not as good as the cooked ones in The Wheelhouse in Falmouth but still really rather tasty, and the texture was surprisingly pleasant! For mains we all shared a bowl of petite pois and some buttery green beans, and I chose a beef steak -
27th September, 1:02am HOLY SHIT I JUST SAW A RATHER LARGE BAT FLY INTO MY ROOM, never seem them come IN before, just go out… its funny to think that they can’t see us, just hear us… a blind thing flying about!! Interlude over…
Which came with an artful pile of the chunkiest chips on earth (about 6 of them) a big mushroom, and a big half tomato. I tried and I tried to finish my meal, and even swapped chunks of meat with Silje (she had a huge bit of pork with crackling all along the back… mmm!) but no… I physically couldn’t fit any more in my belly even though the puddings looked REALLY yummy.
I hope to go back there some day. Maybe at the end of Golant. Back home we then went, and I went to bed in my van again (where I slept as the Norweg’s had my room).
Next day. Graduation! As per usual, I looked like a scruff bag compared to everyone else, but that is fine. Drove down to Falmouth with the parents in convoy behind and walked in to town for a pasty on the quay, and a couple of photos (upon where my mother pinched my bum. She is not meant to do this).
(Rarr, Squidget & I looking special on the quay).
To Princess Pavilions we went where we were all dressed up in our silly hats and mad gowns, fun was had with these and photos were taken of us in funny poses (not a single hat throwing photo!). Students led into the hall and ceremony done – I got to sit next to Mr Will Bovill which was nice as he’s a good chap and I’ve never really spoken to him much due to my habit of being an unsociable sod. I reckon we could natter for a fair while. I felt like I was on stage shaking hands and the like for literally a second, it was funny to think that on that same stage I’ve watched good bands play and walked on at a Spiritual and Mystic fayre. The resulting photo of me being an ill at ease person in front of large amounts of other people is that my official hand-shaking photo actually looks like I’m about to Dosie Doe with the woman (who was she?). The motherly one, finding this rather amusing, decided to buy the photo. Forcing myself to be sociable rather than run off to my van and drive to the forge to see Lisa I stood about sort of talking to fellow classmates before a small group of us went to the beach to eat ice-cream (orange & mascarpone Roskillys) and then go back in to town to The Front to drink (Pepsi for me… hmpf!) and eat Balti Curries curry. Om nom nom.
Official graduation stuff over, the Friday I (grumpily) drove the Norweg’s to their storage unit near Perranporth, and then (less grumpily) drove all the way to Perranporth where I parked up on the cliff by the hostel and showed the Norweg’s the mining caves, had a brief natter to Phil, and ran off down the cliff to the beach where we made a pact to all jump into the sea (the weather was most pleasant).
I’m so glad I jumped in the sea, even if it was in my underwear. So good rolling about in the waves, it makes you feel more alive; it amused me to see everyone else garbed in tight black neoprene. Drove back to Golant just in time to get back on shift for the evening, all nice and salt water encrusted.
The Norweg’s left on Sunday, and then my next Monday Tuesday were just lazy and monging about in Falmouth for a slight change in scenery. It is nice having lazy weekends, though I did need to pick up a couple of things such as proper squishy ear plugs for the next time I’m sleeping in my van and it starts raining… it’s thunderous.
The past week has been mostly uneventful except for a meeting with a lovely lass from a hostel in the North York’s for which name I can’t remember. She being staff, I invited her to the staff house for the evening for a drink or two… between herself, Duncan & I we finished off a bottle of red wine, one of rose, a fair chunk of ginger wine, a little amount of Duncan’s homemade mead, and some 8.3% cider… I can safely say that the next day I was NOT feeling top notch.
Today, or rather as it is now YESTURDAY, I woke up nice and late due to a 2:30am disruption of a fire alarm and then spent the day round about Lanhydrock National Trust property with Mr Arnold.
Parking up a short distance away from the big house, we snaked our way through the woods next to the river at the bottom of the hill; the trees there are brilliant, many covered with a coat of moss and throwing their limbs across the path. As per usual, Arnold was on the look out for fish (trout, mostly) in the river, after a while of looking and finally sitting down by the river we finally saw one! It leapt right out of the water! It was most exciting, and probably a rainbow trout rather than a brown one. We also saw a couple of flashes of golden yellow as a Goldfinch flew about, but apparently the fish was way more amazing.
The leaves on the trees haven’t yet got to the point of which they look as if they’re created from rust, however it’s soon approaching. Field which have been harvested are now full of almost fully grown pheasants and it’s almost to the season of shooting… contemplating a few ways of acquiring a pheasant or two for myself without having to shoot (due to lack of gun…). Heavily alcoholic raisins? Could work. Get ‘em drunk, then pounce and snap their necks! Sorry, but I’d rather kill my own meat (although due to lack of knowledge of how and other reasons, I eat shop brought). 
(This is how close I got to the pheasants... no zoom on this one!).
Unable to get in to Lanhydrock house in the end as it turned out it’s not open on Mondays, we wandered about the gardens and found huge leaves, black leaves with bright yellow flowers, and some more very tame pheasants which I turned to stalking through the bushes.
Today (Tuesday 27th) has been a lazy day, I’ve eaten far too much, and am now making up for that by sitting outside in the back garden (even though the sunlight has all gone from this area, and the ground is damp). The weather is still warm for the time of night due to the Indian summer which has decided to appear, and I’m listening to Bonobo with a bottle of Weston’s Vintage 8.2%. Mmm. I’m glad it’s still on offer in Co-Op.
A wood pigeon has just flown past and I heard the brief cry of seagulls, and the swoosh of a breeze in the trees. Somewhere a little distance away cows are making their mooing noises and in the field below me a pheasant has just started to make it’s racket. There goes a couple of seagulls flying through the cloud dotted blue evening sky and a wood pigeon cooing in a tree. I should finish this soon, it’s over 4000 words long… I guess it IS an update for a few weeks of failing to do so…
Conkers on the tree,
Swallows all gone,
Yellowing clouds.
5632 words.
P.S. Do I really look older than 22?? Phil asked if I was over 26, and Duncan thought I was around 24!
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