Beach-combing Boy

We visited St.Agnes on a glorious day, just right for relaxing on the beach; needless to say Clive had his camera. He left me  with my notebook - below are the words that formed.

Beach-combing Boy

Lying on soft summer sand

I watch him ~

Clambering, searching

Shapes in crevices,

Rocky pools ~

For hidden gems.

Now sitting, trying to read ~

I smile, watching him more.

Kneeling, peering ~

Nose to objects,

Lens to subjects ~

Fingers touching, turning over.

        Kids paddle, scream.

        Dads build sandcastles.

        Mums hope for a moment of peace.

        ~

        Dogs chase balls

        Into the rushing sea ~

        Where surfers ride the waves

Hot sunshine warms my soul.

I laugh at his antics ~

A noisy ocean booms behind him.

He is oblivious,

Lost in creation ~

Seeking the perfect shot.

He moves across busy beach

With contented grin.

Head down, still searching ~

Bare feet leaving prints of sand.

I wait for him to remember me.

I watch him. I love him.

 

When he came back he had found this heart stone amongst rocks and seaweed; a perfect shot. And I have the perfect souvenir.

I think it will make a great romantic card!

See you soon, PPx
 

St. Agnes 28.07.2012

Muck for Luck ?

Hello,  one day last week, on a whim after work, and because the sun was briefly making an appearance, we dashed home, quick change, and headed to St.Ives. The tide was slowly on its way in and the special light was all around; Clive busied himself photographing the scenes.

Crowds were gathered above a small cove where earlier in the day someone had left evidence of having had a lazy afternoon. Small pebbles balanced on larger ones; balanced on stones; balanced on rocks; balanced on boulders - quite a sight. I hope you can get the idea from the photo below taken in the evening sun, here the rocks could be mistaken for a family of meerkats! We thought that they must be held together by superglue, but apparently not - only by sheer determination and patience.

Strolling around visitor-watching I was so glad to see families at last able to enjoy sandy beaches, quaint cafes, modern bars and traditional pubs. I watched people buying gifts from wonderful galleries, treats and souvenirs from the great mix of shops. A good day for the local businesses.

People wandered slowly in their shorts and flip-flops, T-shirts and sunglasses; the uniform of Cornwall ... Many, including us, were trying to decide where to have their evening meal, the choice is huge and varied; but many had opted for the old favourite of a pasty in a bag!

As usual we breathed in the fresh clean air and reminded ourselves how lucky we were to be able to have all this on our doorstep. Clive carried on clicking and I carried on thinking, wondering how I could capture and express the good feelings of joy and happiness the Sun and St.Ives had given to us on a Tuesday night in July, when I wasn't on holiday!

We decided to eat at a cafe on the beach where we had enjoyed a lovely meal once before. We opted to sit on the covered decking area but as most tables were booked we had to sit in a corner, half under cover and half not. We didn't mind, it was a warm evening and we had a bird's eye view of the beach below us and the sea flowing in. I sipped wine while watching people pack there beach bags and walk reluctantly away, dragging their bare feet one last time through the luscious soft sand.

We gave our order and waited for the food. I was probably fantasing about winning the lottery, hypnotised by the view, dreaming of buying a house on top of the cliffs - and then it happened. Splosh!!!! No such word I know, but that's what it sounded like, and felt like as it hit the back of my new jacket, my left ear, and my cutlery simultaneously.

I did not swear. I don't swear. But boy could I feel a glut of colourful language struggling to get out. I remained calm. I was in a public place. It happened so quick, none of the other diners seemed to notice my silent hysterics as I peeled off my jacket. It had to be a seagull, they are so accomplished at poohing and flying at the same time, like fighter jets firing their missiles without slowing down. I know. It has happened to me before. And you've guessed it, in St.Ives!



Clive gallantly tried to wipe off the surface waste with copious amounts of serviettes (they were paper, not damask napkins), while I cleaned my ear. The waitress arrived with our food. We explained what had happened, she was totally cool, picked up the soiled cutlery with the mound of serviettes, as if it was an everyday occurrence. It probably was. But as I my Mother would have said - "don't be soft, tha knows what they say - muck for luck" - she was very superstitious.

I suppose on reflection, after a week has gone by, I'm still alive, my jacket washed like new, we still live near St.Ives, and the seafood pie was delicious!

Until next time,
PPx

I’ve missed you – even though I’m not sure who you are. I used to write as if I was chatting to you only ~ I hope you’ll still humour me, read my ramblings!

I won’t bore you with the details why I haven’t been blogging since last year; suffice to say I now have a new challenge. With my husband, we create, design, write and publish our photo-art cards. I thought I would keep you posted periodically on our progress; a new business is exciting, but very scary! We are also supporting our local children’s hospice in the process.

Sunday morning reflection: Today I wanted to share with you the difference receiving a card, for whatever reason or occasion, can make. In this instance my recent birthday, a day I was only too willing to forget. But family friends did not. The cards started coming two weeks earlier, always the first from Australia. They gradually started to pile up on the mantelpiece. Finally on the day, my husband brought all 19 of them to me in bed, along with the usual cup of tea.

At 6am my eyes would not focus. I went on to automatic pilot, finished getting ready for work. During porridge he came to help me open them! Beautiful words and sentiments tumbled out of each card. A wonderful mix of: funny, moving, romantic - the latter of course from Clive – through them all I could feel true wishes of love; how lucky am I?

Words upon words, strung together making pretty meaningful sentences and phrases, designed to make me smile, laugh, think and in some cases cry.

Obviously I’m going to advocate the sending of cards, but they really do make a difference. Being reminded that others care about you is very comforting.

Until next time,
PPx

PS: The photograph below formed the card Clive made for me. He knows I love this image, taken from the cliffs above Porthcurno on Logan’s Rock. The mass of heather in the foreground points the way, emphasising the sea far below. A dizzying, exhilarating experience. The personalisation makes the card unique.

If in doubt – post a Parkes Card! x

Lazy Sunday.

It will come as no surprise that I have spent most of Day 2 of 2011, inbetween cooking meals, writing.

I've been writing more of my current fictional project. I'm enjoying it so much that I am in danger of getting too excited. Do you know what I mean? Have you experienced it too? It's a new genre for me, yet the same story I've been wanting to write from a different angle; I think it's working. Fingers crossed.

Strange isn't it that just by taking a look from another perspective something original can begin.

At the back of mind I am conscious that in just over 48 hours I will be getting into work mode, preparing my lists and tasks for January. I have already prepared an agenda for a coupe of meetings on Tuesday. I suppose you could say that this is writing also, but not the sort I love. However, I need work to provide a security in which I can relax and write what I want to.

To complete my lazy, enjoyable Sunday I have put the roast in the oven, my bath is run, the candles are flickering and the chilled wine is poured. So excuse me while I select a book to read, better still I shall take my notebook!

Thanks for reading me, (does this mean I'm sort of published?)I love you!
PP

This Saturday feels different:

Because it’s the first day of a New Year.Fresh thoughts on old dreams; maybe even new dreams.

The old calendar is taken down and replaced. This year we have a huge one with glossy monthly views of Brisbane, sent to us by a special friend who emigrated a year ago; one day we hope to visit - a new dream.

My 2010 diary is put away on the bookshelf, a smart new one goes in the handbag.365 blank pages ...

Today’s entry might be remembering yesterday, as we ended 2010 by driving down to the beach at Porthcurno. Thankfully no snow or ice but deep sand, cold winds and high waves climbing the surrounding cliffs.

On the way home we stopped to see the famous Christmas lights in the small Cornish village of Mousehole where many, many visitors descend. Yesterday was no exception.

The lights hang around the village and harbour walls. They are far better than the sample above, but I just wanted to send you greetings from Cornwall.

You cannot visit Mousehole, anytime of the year, without looking out at the rough seas beyond the harbour and remembering the many lives lost over the years; sobering thoughts before the popping of champagne on New Year’s Eve.

I've spent the first day of 2011 doing what I love best, writing. Editing and adding to the various ongoing projects which I hope I will be able to share soon.

I hope your day was happy too.

Until the next time,
Best New Year Wishes to you – PP.

The Friday Feeling ...

My usual feelings on a Friday would be – Yipee! The weekend starts here – but today is not an ordinary Friday because another year starts here very soon.

If I could share one piece of advice given to me during the latter part of this year, as I’ve been trying to find the right words in the various assignments I’ve been set on my course, it would be, in a nutshell, ‘don’t over-think, just write Pauline write.’ Very true.

Have a fabulous evening.
Here’s to a happy and healthy New Year, and the exciting challenges 2011 will no doubt bring.

Keep writing!

PPx

A Dress Code?

We are going away at the weekend and I’m making a start on the packing. I have a dress I’m going to take that after I bought it caused me regret and dilemma. Looking at it again has made me ponder; something like this.

I bought it on impulse in a sale. I suppose the keen price tag and in my size was why I gave it a second look. But the real attraction was the feel of the soft material, the way it hung in easy flowing lines, and the swirl of colours, shades of blue and mushroom. Small details also caught my eye, covered buttons, slinky belt and small cap sleeves. I just loved it, and bought it.

Unfortunately the dress has hung in my wardrobe for a couple of years unworn, apart from a couple of times in the house when I’ve ‘tried it out’. Why? Because it's too short, just on the knee. Or rather I think it’s too short to wear with only a pair of tights and shoes for support; what a wimp I am!

Then I noticed the younger girls at work looking very smart in similar styles. I asked myself, what was the difference? On closer inspection it was the layer-look, boots and leggings. I had boots, suitable fine tops, all I had to buy was a pair of leggings and put them altogether. Hey Presto!

You’ve probably worked out by now what I’m trying to suggest in relation to writing. Rarely do first ideas and drafts work, as I can testify on a weekly basis; they always lack something, or plenty. Most of the main points are usually there, characters, style, plot, setting, dialogue, but they might be in the wrong order or need another ingredient to fuse the various elements together; like I said, it’s just a thought.

Don’t throw anything away, look at it from another angle, tweak with a fresh addition. I did, and was described as looking ‘cool’ by those same young girls in the office; I’ve been studying my writing more closely too.

Till next time.
PP