?

I'm feeling very quiet. Something is happening and I don't know what.

Reading list...

I love my new modules. This with Feature Journalism and Sudden Prose is going to be treat after treat, but an absolute tonne of work. Homework time.

So, here I am.

Back in Bath with all these happy familiar faces.

Handbag cheese on toast: I miss Josh.

The boys

Mum and I secretly got them each a uni present. A Moleskine Passions journal for each. Josh's was a recipe journal, Joe's a music journal and Gid's was a film journal. Three very very happy boys.

Icon, in nothing but a tshirt

Reading...

Adventure Pop?

Hoist The Sails by San Pablo
Pablos, bother, boyfriend, undeniably brilliant.

Secret Woodland

Green Boy

Queens Hotel- Great Western Railway Poster

Alec Frazer, Circa 1905

I bought this postcard today in Penlee House Gallery.

BUGS

Peeeeeeep

Ghost Boats

We've been having some incredible light thrown over us in the last week, leaving me craving the rust and colours of Newlyn harbour. I made a stop on the way home to take some photos.

Bottled milk

I loved glass milk bottles, delivered by a milkman on a rattling unstable looking van in the early mornings. I loved the feel of their ice cold glass and the satisfying foil you had to peel off the top.
I also loved that pale blue nightie, I believed it was the same as Wendy's from Peter Pan and that I could fly when I jumped down from tables and chairs.

Summer for some

Joshua, Gideon, Joe, Chris, Eliot, Louis and Nico enjoying the sun on our new patio. I had to work. Arrrrrgh

Party in the park

I don't have a single photo to show for it but it felt great to be making a few memories of this summer rather than making money.

Pip lost his virginity.

Her name is Rosie.

You.

I have so many words for you at precisely the wrong moment.

The little part of the person which holds two together

Stretched like jelly, trying to be so many people at once, she is finally growing in to just one. Although she didn’t mould in to the exact person I loved most, she is still part of that person. Or, she is made with pieces from one of those people she tried to be. That little part of her will always be the person I love most.

The Fly.

Carrying Light

She illuminates each room, then takes the light purposefully with her to the next, leaving everything before her and after in darkness. Yet although she is always in the light, she is unable to look back at where she came from, nor look forward to anything ahead of her. Therefore, she will never get out of what she is in.

Riverside tunnel, Bath.

Hahaha

A Cross Dressed Housewarming Party.

After finding out I needed to hand in a (very) late essay I had no other choice but to drive up to Bath for the night to submit it in paper format. I took Flo along and thought we'd make the most of it and planned to go out for dinner. On the way up I remembered that Keiran and Joe were having a house warming party for our new home, I said a few weeks previously that there would be no chance I could make. I thought that it could have been the night before but when I arrived at our house it was full of balloons and unopened beer bottles. Joe was really happy to see us, Keiran didn't get home until ten, so we hid in his bed.
Flo and I went for thai at the Thai on the Weir. It was nice, but unbearably spicy. Back at the house the cross dressers were arriving. We helped some of the boys with their make- up. They all looked very impressive.

Vintage Yorkie Advert

Experiment

Wild, white flowers and food dye. Red worked best, then green.

Fashion Japan

I stumbled upon this website last night and thought it was really cool, sort of like the Japanese version of the Brick Lane Daily Girl that we have in London. Looking at the photographs makes me want to travel to Japan to see the fashion and lifestyle for myself. The girls are particularly eccentric, and there are still some strong historical links back to the styling of the Geisha.

Oh Comely.

I am so happy that I found you.



This magazine shall now become my Creative Writing Survival Guide. Photography, illustration, fashion, the odd recipe, and quirky and unique journalism. I am in love. £4 per monthly issue, £18 for a years subscription. Oh, Joshua....

I saw this and thought of...

Me. About 16 years ago.

I just stumbled upon...

It made me giggle.

Perhaps a little... swordplay.

a photographic conversation

...between famous shoe designer, Manolo Blahnik, and fashion photographer, Eric Boman. Friends since 1970.


I love this book. I begged Mum for it for Christmas about 5 or more years ago. I love knowing that it's there on the shelf, nestled among my other treasure books.

Girls Night.

It has been long awaited, a night with just the girls. Flo, Hollie and I met up with our beautiful and hilarious fringe snipper Kelly with Brydie and Amy for some drinks and mischief in St Ives. We all fancied a change of scenery.

Addicted.

Simon Howards Things

Click here to pop in.

Cheers.

Happy 21st to Hollie

This looks like my friends dad.

Yes, really.

It's that ancient love, that you won't outgrow

Bombay Bicycle Club, Dust on the Ground. Highbury Fields.
Beautiful.

Buster by Quint Buchholz

I bought this postcard in Rainyday Gallery on Market Jew Street in Penzance. I found a few others by Buchholz which I liked and it has lead me to find more of his work which I will share at a later date.

The old in old(er) St Ives

Wild Flower Bouquet

Cow parsley, forgetmenots, daisies and buttercups.

I think this is brilliant.

Malcolm's Magpies

Malcolm dumped himself down on the riverside, for once not caring what the cyclist or joggers thought of his lazy attitude towards their fantastic day. They streamed past him, progressing with their lives, making something of themselves. Malcolm was an amateur photographer currently working for the Tempest taking children’s school photos. It was mindless work which he was doing purely to keep him financially afloat while he built up his portfolio enough to get freelance work. Strongly influenced by his personal happiness, he was not the sort of person who could carry on well when miserable.

Last week Malcolm had been thrown out by his beautiful girlfriend Alisha. Her image was lingering in front of him like a ghost, everywhere he went he saw her floating in and out of reach. Her skin was as opaque as black olives and her eyes were so clever they had made him believe in magic. After nearly eighteen months of her magic she’d switched it off.

“I’ve met somebody else Malcolm. I’m sorry but I need to do this for myself. I can’t stay in this relationship just for you.”

“But what about Bella?” he’d responded desperately. Bella, a soppy two year old beagle, was their only shared love. They had rescued her shortly after they’d moved in together.

“She’ll be heartbroken if we separate.”

“She’s a dog, she’ll get over it. I’ll look after her, that way she won’t have to live out of boxes while you’re looking for a new place. You can visit but only when you’ve gotten over it too.”

Malcolm watched the blurry world pass him while he sat on the riverbank immersed in grief. Two black blurs fell to the ground in front of him and started dancing with each other. He squeezed his eyes shut and opened them to see two magpies. They were fidgeting and pecking at each other. Their wings flapped allowing him to capture glimpses of metallic blue.

Perhaps, I’ll go back to Adam’s flat to find a message from Alisha asking for me to meet her. I’ll accept and we’ll meet at the Green Bean. She’ll be waiting for me, sipping her butterscotch latte with white sugar. I’ll drink my milky tea and listen as she tells me how unbelievably sorry she is and what a hideous mistake she’s made. After we broke up her doctor diagnosed her with temporary insanity but she’s on the mend now and wants to put her life back together. She’ll tell me that Bella has been pining for me, waiting sadly by the door at half past five each night.

While Malcolm let his thoughts dry his face, the birds continued to wrestle in front of him. Each time one tried to fly away the other would pull it back down to earth by its wing. He was deaf to all their squawking.

I’ll visit Mum and tell her the good news about Alisha and I. Her doctors will tell me that she’s responded really well to the new medication and her condition is improving steadily. I’ll take her to her favourite restaurant to meet Alisha and we’ll plan what we want to do for Christmas.

Black and blue feathers litter the grass surrounding Malcolm. His day dream carries him like a small leaf in a river; he picks up a glossy black feather and twiddles it between his fingers.

When we get home I’ll get a call from the garage saying my car has passed its MOT and that it’s ready to be picked up. Alisha and I’ll take Bella for a long walk to go and collect it. On the way back we’ll go food shopping and fill the trolley right to the top with groceries. We’ll buy our favourite ice cream and get a new movie from Blockbusters to watch. We lie on the sofa, curled around each other like spaghetti, sharing ice cream from the same bowl. Bella will lie on her back letting me rub her tummy with my foot.

The magpies escape in to the air, chasing each other into a giant tree. Malcolm reclines so that he can keep the birds in view. He smiles towards the sky as perfection fills every corner his mind. He watches in awe as he sees himself driving through landscapes in his rusty white Volkswagen with his loaded camera on the passenger seat, ready to capture the world. Exquisite snapshots of places, women, men, architecture and oceans cover his study walls. His portfolio is bulging with skilfully captured photographs, ready to help him break into his real profession.

From the tree, the magpies came twirling to the ground, fast and heavy. One of them lay at an awkward angle whilst the other continued to tug at its wing. The fallen magpie tried to manoeuvre out of reach but slowly gave up and was still. The other magpie, feathers ruffled but overall unhurt, took to the sky and disappeared.

After the downpour

After the downpour
I am dry,
like a sunken ship
left behind by the tide.
I drop like a leaf,
falling calmly,
towards the crunch
I push myself
as deep as a bulb
into the quiet earth.
I prepare to grow up.
Released from the waves
the sun dries the salt
on my clean, warm skin.

A metaphor for a friend

Books Don't Stay Open Forever

This is my advice to a dear friend, that although you are impatient, and want your answers now, the book won't stay open forever. You will get to the end of it, get your answers and you will close the book (and hopefully never, ever read it again.)

Ask your librarian. That's why library books become overdue. People aren't finished finding out what has happened, or they forget about the answers they were looking for because life goes on and there is fun to be had, or work to be done elsewhere. In the end they no longer need to know what happened in that other story. It becomes obsolete.

I am your librarian.

Originally posted: Thursday, 10 December 2009

Ernest Hemingway (1899- 1961)

In the 1920's Ernest Hemingway made a bet for ten dollars that he could write a complete story in six words. He won the bet.

For Sale: baby shoes, never worn.

Prompts

While I am buried in dreams,

sleep rubuilds my soul.

Darkness wraps me up

and carries me to tomorrow.