awww such a beautiful song!!! everytime i hear it, i put it on 3 times in a row.. at least
an extravaganza, almost schmaltz, but! SMOOCH. it is as perfect in the early morning as last thing at night
for all the sadness, for all that we feel has been lost
well, it is good to be reminded of the force of love that is always, forever beside us in the world x
first (late!) sea swim of the year yesterday, words from last night… every year i write completely anew almost the same phrases, palimpset, a traditional ballard, soothe reassuring, och aye mcgonagallesque!
oh and pic is rather good, not mine, somebody talented with a big camera
First the kerfuffle with the towell, the half hearted dance of concealment
the rigamarole, the wiggle and shimmy into trunks
a hobble across the ouch eek stones, pigeons and plovers eggs, my reluctance real not feigned, there to dip a toe into the briney blue! summertime… oh summertime
wade, then push on through, the flimsy barricade of what? sea grot! a shroud of watered down porridge, which clings close to the shore
a lone plastic bag looms on the swell, parody of a jellyfish
inch inwards, no sudden spasm, rather, slowly immersed beneath the stealth of numbness
a pool of cold lapping cruelly at yer goolies… ha, well, if joyce can have the ‘scrotum tightening sea’
…and then … and then… gung ho geronimo!
to lurch forwards, flung beneath the surface, an ecstasy of splashing, a few frenzied dolphin kicks
down, to grasp a stone from the bottom, Sea Ruby
emerge spluttering, gasp grab at the first lungful of greedy air
not so bad … not so bad…
caul of water, birth, baptism, emergence
i am seal, sleek slicked hair, blubbersome and bewhiskered, stories, like tears, within my soft mournful selkie eyes
thought, thankfully, ha, dwindles beneath this mere torrent of being alive
the cold, the salt, there is a contraction to form, saturnine, ridgity, definition
pared down to this sadness, sadness? at what? still.. it loiters
i flip over onto my back, a bloated resting, meniscous, buoyed up, the boundary of being within, being of water
Blue Sea Beneath
Blue Sky Above
stranded here… in the forever
…kerplonk splosh, reverie interruptus, i loook to the shore, my son, floundering pleasantly in the shallows
big grin, hoik lobbing pebble followed by pebble in my direction. bless
now if only, if only, i were a giraffe, i would feast on flowers all day long
Richard Basgallop ?… in the evenings tho, i would play tiddlywinks.. and maybe dance the hornpipe. so there
Richard Basgallop and, just remembered, they have the most amazing liquorice black prehensile tongues!!!
Jane Robbie Och you would probably save some and make a flower chain to adorn around your ossicones (giraffe’s antlers to you!!) x
Richard Basgallop antlers! you mean those gnobbly things?? spare ears
Claire Treharne yes sometimes when you smell a really good rose I feel convinced they should be for eating or snorting or somehow ingesting!! mmmm ;O) or how about being a bumble bee, that way you could get right inside them and dust their pollen on your sides then go and do a little dance to share the pollen pot with everyone else:o) !
Richard Basgallop ooh i like the image of the bee dancing. cha cha cha. indeed what joy to be swaddled deep within the heart of the petals, to bee enveloped, to nectar bathe in flower yum juice! bzzz
… also, also i remember being at the temple of brahma, by the holy lake in in pushkar, chatting with the flower sellers at the door, apparently you are not supposed to sniff the Roses, they are an offering for the god and their pong is for the deity alone… so of course i got 2 flowers one for the god and one for me.. wandering around with it rammed up me hooter! Roses are just the best… still i imagine brahma to be the huge universe wide yawn slumbering lord of creation… so i hope he probably wouldn’t mind?!!
spirulina beard! sounds repulsive, i know, whilst draining the dregs from the vat of algae, a plume of irridescent powder has daubed my beard a virulent hue of green… its actually quite dashing in a bird of paradise errol flynn boudoir kinda way… yes… bored, irish folk music, full blast, diddly i, diddly aye, and on with the household chores, washing up ahoy!
ha! just spent a very enjoyable hour rummaging through some of my old travel letters home, mum, bless, kept all my bewildering correspondence and handed them back to me last year!
i haven’t found the enthusiasm to re-read many of them yet … till now. but their hilarious! i have exactly the same wonderful pompous florid style, but scrawl handwritten, page after page after page, amazed and rather pleased to find i haven’t evolved one jot.
mostly though the letters are lovely, for their ability to summon the faces of old friends and the flavours of long forgotten adventures… today at least. hurrah for the past!!!
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Richard Basgallop oh and pic is 86, ko samuii? or mbe ko sammet? me scrawny from india and hengist a bonkers viking in a thong, who was determined to introduce me to mushies, moon parties and ozzie women… top bloke!
Nicky Guy I’ve just done the same String! I’ve got two big boxes full of old letters and photos and it’s hilarious looking through them! I’ve got some of your old letters too! Plus all the letters I wrote to Mum and Dad from every trip I’ve been on. …and a couple of travel diaries. Some great stories that I had completely forgotten :))
Richard Basgallop he he, enjoy your wallow! good fun ‘eh, i was just thinking how lucky i am, i got to write letters to my folks (and even my grandparents!) friends, sometime lovers and then on my past few trips to my kids. amazing!
slightly tempered by finding out that Finn, then age 13ish never read any of them to Sibeal, soulless, surly teenage brute! x
Richard Basgallop oh and feeling generally wafflesome… one of the letters i read was from hungary, and turkey! me and flaps hitching across europe, trying to get past the baffling kafka bureaucracy to go on the trans siberian express, strip searched by german customs, and a lift from a bored eccentric oxford uni drop out, 5hr around the bodensee, he meant to take us only 10 mins down the road, he was suffering from a mystery illness and insisted on stopping to play frisbee every 5 mins!
Richard Basgallop the other letter was from an abandonned log cabin halfway along the triglav trail in the slovenian mountains, me and shiv breaking up the furniture to cook spaghetti (al dente!) in a huge hail storm
Richard Basgallop ?… and most marvelous to keep on having new adventures too!!!