Urgh and yuk are the only things I can say...

take a look and see what you think.

A Happy Generic Wizard Night to One and All

This coming Saturday is Halloween- or should that be Generic souls of the dead festival? I think Halloween is the title of a film and I don't want to fall foul of any film company lawyers like the woman who wanted to run a Harry Potter themed restaurant night. and was asked to call it a Generic Wizard Night instead, as Harry Potter (and all things to do with Harry Potter)belongs to Warner Brothers. This is a worrying trend, didn't Disney make a film of Winnie the Pooh? Are we allowed to play Pooh sticks when we throw sticks under a bridge or do we have to call it generic stuffed bear like creature twig like thing racing? Don't get me wrong, I'm all for protecting copyright, otherwise people would be able to print my out of print books which are still my copyright, pay me a pittance for them and call it an 'agreement' even when I haven't signed up for it. But there is such a thing as common sense. Surely it's ok to have a fun night for Harry Potter fans to enjoy eating themed foods without having to call it a generic wizard night?

In which I become a catholic priest...

I had one of those lovely e mails again this morning, you know the ones, they tell you that you can improve the size of your penis by purely natural means using special herbs. I have taken up so many of these fabulous offers that I now have an impressive member which will qualify me for entry to the Catholic church as a priest. It seems to be the only criterion for entry, as all religious differences with the church of england seem to have been put aside after centuries. Bit of a shame for Henry the Eighth and his wives, oh and all those martys who stood up for their rights for religious difference, but hey never mind. As long as you have a penis and are not homosexual then you can be a Catholic Priest in today's modern world. Isn't life wonderful.

my favourite biscuit is er...

The poor prime minister has been castigated for not being able to tell mumsnet what his favourite biscuit is. Possibly he is like me, in that he likes ALL biscuits, even fig rolls. These are, strictly speaking, not a biscuit at all, for they are soft and mouldy tasting like the remnants of a pensioner's biscuit tin, but I won't refuse one if offered. Maybe Gordon just likes anything and didn't want to appear greedy?

And let's face it, there are lots of biscuit choices, far too many. There are too many choices of everything. Take taps for example (as we have been doing a new bathroom I know a lot about taps) There are hundreds of choices of tap- literally, I have the catalogues to prove it. I don't really care much about taps, I want ones that are easy to use and that water comes out of consistently, people who sell taps don't seem to be able to tell you about this. While Brian was gazing at taps and tap catalogues I developed tap fatigue, after all anything was better than the bathroom we were replacing. So I let him chose as I really didn't give a toss as long as I had a bath big enough to lie in.

Everybody knows there are too many choices of everything, from baked beans to lampshades but there isn't much we can do about it as we live in a capitalist society with a free market economy. I expect some of us will evolve brains capable of discerning subtle differences in shape and shades of chrome and brushed stainless steel eventually after millenia and people like myself who are easy going and don't care much about the shape of taps will be wiped out by natural selection.

Wasp Lessons II

I knew my poem wasn't right but it only started annoying me at 3.59 this morning. I think it was because it isn't supposed to be a poem. I was trying to force it into the wrong shape. That's the trouble when you have been lying fallow, you don't always know if you should start growing turnips or roses. It should probably go something like this...
The wasp kissed my lips with pain, circles of blue/purple light expanded the dark and I half fainted onto the pavement. As I lay in bed cobalt waves pulsed through the night. The wasp had given me something, I was not sure what. A new kind of vision and a twist of the tongue: a spell that meant I uttered barbed comments laced with sharp wit.

I did not hate wasps even then, I felt some kind of fascination. Years later, observing their slow alchemy as they changed the faded wooden bench into a beautiful geometric nest I was amazed by their perseverance and skill. And then in the silence of a hot afternoon I felt the full power of vision returning as I sat idly listening to a wasp exploring my room. There was heat, there was me, there was the wasp and I don’t know how my consciousness slipped away but I went droning to another place where I transformed myself. In the shadowy room that belonged to my human self I saw bright circles pulse round electrical outlets, purple haloes surround switches and sockets. It was quick and easy to move between them, I was the wasp and saw as a wasp sees: then I was back sitting at my table in sunlight and the wasp had flown away.

Wasp Lessons

Ruth wrote about wasps for writing group , she has alway seen them as the bad guys but realises that they have a lesson to teach her. I always think wasps are much maligned creatures, they get rid of a lot of pests and rotting things. And I don't think they sting indiscriminately. It was my own fault when I got stung, I was waggling an extra strong mint in and out of my mouth. I had a very strange psychedelic trip as a result of the sting. Since then I have felt a strange affinity for wasps. So I decided I would have a go at writing a wasp poem myself.

The Wasp

kissed my lips with pain,

circles of blue/purple light

expanded the dark.

Later, observing their alchemy;

changing the faded wood bench

into geometric nests.

The silence of a hot afternoon;

droning to another place

where I transformed myself.

Here in my shadow room

bright circles pulse round electrical outlets,

purple haloes surround switches and sockets.

I learned the wasp way of seeing.

Fallow Time

All crop rotations need a fallow time when everything rests and the earth replenishes itself. Poets and artists are the same. I haven't written for a long time because I've been resting, even from my blog. I've done a few pictures and some photos and a few odd bits and pieces but I haven't really been inspired. This morning I sat and watched the sun come up through the hedge The sky was like a Rupert book; yellow at the bottom and blue at the top. A few silhouettes of blackbirds squabbled over shadow hawthorn berries and something else stirred. Something unseen was awakening-A spirit of place? Small elf faces? Ripples of inspiration? I was completely happy being in the Gillness of Gill at that bright moment. It was enough.

More power to the Universal Ladyboy

Go here to see two yobs who picked on a pair of transvestites get more than they bargained for.

New Bathroom

Call the Antiques Roadshow! We are getting rid of our early eighties pampas coloured bathroom suite at last; no more toilet without a seat, sagging plastic bath and cracked basin. Hello to our new coffin shaped bath which looks like the kind of casket you get buried in if you die on the toilet in Memphis.

And if I have to die on the toilet at least I get to see a nice view before I go. Must get a blind at the window so that I don't frighten the sheep!

Fun at the seaside

People trying to enjoy a nice summer day out at St Bees beach this morning. Plenty of spray got on my camera lens!

St Bees

A typical summer day at the English seaside. You can hear me laughing as I get covered in spray.

Crystal Bling Rain

When the endless grey drizzle finally stopped, raindrops hung in a crystal necklace over the grasses.

123456789- A Moment In Time

Today was a special day of significance because the time and date at just past 12.34 was 12.34.56 7/8/9

Well it was in the UK anyway because we put our dates the right way round with the day before the month.

To mark this BBC Cumbria asked people to send in pics of what they were doing right then - you can see more of them here

We were driving along near Dubwath in our Morgan on our way to have lunch here-probably one of the best views from any pub in the western lakes.

Beauty in the eye of the beholder

What makes something beautiful? I was asked last week. It's a difficult question. There are some things that we nearly all appreciate as being beautiful; flowers for example. But there are other things that are only aethestically pleasing to a few people. I love the way the edges on the roof have shattered randomly. (click on picture to enlarge)

Ruined Factory

I photographed the dismantling of Seker's old silk mills site at Hensingham before it finally disappears. I love the sculptural quality of the zigzag roof line and the odd splashes of colour in the generally grey facade. Had to poke my camera through the fence bars to get a better view.

caterpillar day

This morning I chose a goddess card and picked- Butterfly Maiden. She apparently helps us when stuck in cocoon situations. Then I received my clay earth healing disc (see side bar to join the earth healers) with the card above tucked inside the envelope. I didn't have time to read it as Ruth and I were rushing out to the beach to do some sketching on the cliff tops. There we saw lots of cinnabar moth caterpillars. One crawled on me as I drew. Then one crawled on Ruth. We checked each other carefully for caterpillars as we left- but one hitched a ride and was inside my T shirt. I found it just after I unpacked my earth healing disc and read the card sent by sr. K . A very strange 'coincidence'

picture- wikipedia commons