Swarms of migrants? No swarms of bees?

It struck me today that swarms, in one form or another, are big news and little-to-no news at the moment.

First we have the wonders of the prime minister referring to the migrants attempting to enter the country illegally through the channel tunnel as 'swarms' and then my Friday Picador poem arrives in my email box and its 'Arial' by Carol Ann Duffy (a modern take on the 'Where the bee sucks, there suck I' by William Shakespeare) lamenting the fate of the modern bee. Yes, swarms are big or particularly non-existent in the news it seems.

I can almost guarantee that the news will hold reference to the the migrant 'swarm' but nothing about the plight of the bees. It seems that there is a degree of our very British knack of building a man up in order to shoot him down with the former and the question of how to deal with the migrant issue is, quite rightly, a burning one as well so this is rightly taking the headlines in one shape or another. The bees however are less appealing to the newspeople, they're focussed on the bigger pictures while the humble bee declines and the impact that this will have not only on the their own population but upon the resources of the world buzz off to the mid sections or wait for a slow news day to be pulled out and eulogised.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-africa-33733722

If bees were bigger perhaps they would fair better. The horror of seeing a supposedly civilised man - a dentist - holding a 'trophy' in the shape of a lion rightly appals the world as we can censure the perpetrator. He is an individual, a face we can search out on Facebook, until he removes his page, journalists can print his picture, the internet can be abuzz with tales of his past deeds and present going to ground to avoid being hunted out. Yes, we can see this perpetrator of crimes against nature but we can't see those who perpetrate against the humble bee. These are multi faced, multinationals, and governments, faceless folk who continue to open the door to long term extinctions that, once beyond a certain point, cannot be easily reversed.

The plight of the Cecil is easy to publicise. He has a name, noble images and is a symbol of power for not only the people of Zim' but for everyone who has once seen a picture book or encountered a Disney film containing an image of The King of the Jungle. Yet I guess its a bit difficult to get quite so worked up about a small creature with a sting in its tail week after week. I'm passing no judgement. It is what it is and this is merely an observation. It may well be that the huge ramifications implicit in the demise of the bee is also too great for people to contemplate without some relief and taking their minds to the new will bring them back refreshed, renewed and ready to take up the angst of life without honey, or for that matter the comforting buzz in a flower garden some five years ago.

Skullduggery afoot in OU forums?

Skullduggery - yes, skullduggery - was attempted today by a less than affective woman trying to infiltrate an Open University forum that I am a moderator on. You heard it here first folks.

What a cheeky monkey!

I'd noticed her request for membership to the closed group some weeks back and written to ask her about her previous courses etc. as I couldn't find any thing appertaining to an OU affiliation on her Facebook page. Today, at last she got in touch and after some digging it transpired that she was in fact offering to write essays for students and wanted to join for marketing purposes. Now, I'm all for enterprise but not for cheats and charlatans and her request was denied and I put a block on her lest anyone else try to sneak her in by some dark and mysterious backdoor method. The funny part about it was that not only was her grasp of English grammar rudimentary to the point of being childlike but that she seemed to be unacquainted with punctuation. I'm no genius in either capacity but I think the business lady was using English as a second language and might perhaps have struggled to compose a GCSE exam paper let alone a university one.

Cor, the cheek of some people!

That aside, the morning has gone well as yesterday I had a delivery of some laverbread - a Welsh 'delicacy' - and this morning I duly made myself a mug of coffee and some laverbread patties for breakfast.... fantastic! If you don't know what laverbread is then imagine you're at the seaside in Wales. Walk along the beach and feel the sand between your toes while the gulls wheel overhead. Then bend down and look at the rough seaweed that is tickling your feet and there my friend you have the raw material of laverbread. It takes a lot of preparation to make it in to the green/black slime that I would then mix with oat meal to make the patties - yes, I can imagine you wincing at the thought - but think of sushi and all those other delights and that is what laverbread is. It was a fab way to start the day and healthy too.

If you still want to know about laverbread why not check out this:
http://wiltshiredancegroup.sharepoint.com/Pages/WelshKitchen.aspx

Now I'm writing to you and preparing for a day of creativity before heading off to teach belly dance to my lovely ladies this evening. I'm sure that I'll have more to add to this posting but in the mean time I thought I'd share this image (since we've been talking about the sea) that shows where I'd rather be writing from.... oh well, we can all dream can't we? I'll be back there in September but till then the dreams will have to suffice.

-----------------------------------------
Okay, yes, there's more to add.
I have just invented a new phrase 'rockets for back pockets' and it replaces my mothers worst comment about laziness 'rocket up your arse' which always seemed waaaaay too rude coming out of her mouth but as she used to tell me 'you're enough to make a saint swear'. This actually contradicts her one and only compliment about me in my ***** years of life 'you were a good girl and never gave me a moment of worry'. Mothers! Who'd have 'em? Well, all of us in one shape or another or else we wouldn't be here.

WOMAD! Mud, Mud Glorious Mud

Hi One and All,                              

I had a great weekend but didn't quite get round to posting as I was up to my knees in MUD at WOMAD.

Yes, after years of resisting the lure of music when combined with tents, mud and a lack of washing facilities and allowed 17 'friends' to persuade me to indulge in festival life. Interestingly, some were so keen that on Thursday a few manly people erected a blue tent of wonder for me to use. Hmmmm. This was almost convincing but as I was teaching belly dance on Thursday evening I was able to save myself one night of sleeping out and by the next day God had decided to revisit the world with a taste of Ark Envy and I had my first real taste of festival life with 2.5 inches of rain, mud galore and was more than happy to have been given the gift of a weekend ticket to the 'La Di Dah Loos'.

I managed to look cool in glow-in-the-dark green ankle boots, cut-down-jeans and what can best be described as a luminous green coat of hideosity. I saw amazing bands, met with friends old and new (was adopted by a guy who looked like Catweazle) and loved every minute of it. However, incessant rain and some raving 20somethings in the tent next door and an aversion to cold meant that I was naughty enough to slip off home. What happened the next day? Endless sun, sunburn, me raving, more bands, eating at the Caribbean stalls for the second day running and home to get aftersun and to dye my eyebrows in a somewhat wasted effort to tone down my sun-burn.

Sunday was back to the rain and even more mud. Why a woman decided to ask me to push her husbands 4x4 out of the mud I have no idea but having just seen another woman end up falling face first into a quagmire and a set of guys get drenched by skidding tyres I was less than gracious in my response. I was actually wearing the ankle boots, some psychedelic chevron thick stockings (stay-ups ladies) and a pair of lycra shorts, a lacy top and cropped trousers and hadn't even bothered to wash my hair. Why wash it when we can tie it up in a glittery scarf and let the rain do its worse?

I did enjoy myself and will probably go back next year as it was really great to see so many bands - even the very angry tango lady - and I simply can't let a little mud put me off... can I?

The issue of blogging came up in the OU Write Club forum last night / this morning and I brought up the issue I've had with blogging... does it count as being published and therefore nullify a writers ability to enter competitions that specify 'unpublished' authors only? I think this is a moot point as it looks as if many, perhaps most, of the students either secretly or openly hold an ambition to become 'Writers' and by encouraging the existing bloggers I felt that I should perhaps be adding a word of caution in my role as moderator for the A215 forum.

Although there were opinions expressed non-seemed to be the definitive answer to this query as there is no definitive attitude from either competition organisers or publishing houses for that matter. Some publishing houses seem to positively engage with bloggers with a following whilst others are ambivalent and some show a discrimination that is similar to a withering 'its a cheap form of self publishing for those who should never be published'. Amusing isn't it?

As my own ambitions lie more in the regions of allowing myself to write and explore the medium as much as possible and for my own enjoyment I don't suppose it has many immediate ramifications but it was non-the-less important for me to become as informed as possible lest I should be quizzed on such things by other students. I feel no more knowledgable than I did before but at least I have confidence in my ability to lay out the possible responses they'll encounter.

Ho, hum!

And the haiku of the day... one of many as I'm feeling particularly creative today:

the winged seeds were like

tadpoles swimming up to kiss

each other, then part

I just loved this image as it captured the movement of wind through the seeds.

I've had a break - only a few days - from blogging as I've been inundated with paperwork, driving miles to have my hair done and getting caught in the mother of all traffic jams (it wiped out a whole day) and generally writing the beginning of a short story that is, rather like the traffic jam, turning into rather a long story and in this case potentially a novel.

The thing that got me started on the novel was a writing prompt from my OU course. Yes, the one I haven't actually started yet. I was perusing the activities that I'll be doing some time in the literary future and two prompts from a set of ten got me thinking and suddenly some characters were there on the horizon and walking towards me, almost real as they had personalities and histories even. And there it was.... the beginning of the short story that just keeps on growing. Its not even a genre that I would have thought of choosing - a murder mystery - as its not one I'd read and I don't think I have any skills in that direction but... well, they keep coming back to me each and every time I'm not doing something, and sometimes even if I am and their story is just THERE wanting to be told. Its most peculiar.

So have I kept up my Haiku per day? Well funnily enough I have and am enjoying it very much. Perhaps it was the Haiku's that got me moving in a literary sense as they seem to float in from all directions and I wonder if this will stop. Its also nice to find that the ordinary things in life suddenly throw up amazing opportunities for some very extraordinary thoughts and feelings that can then be condensed into writing that takes you in different directions. It doesn't have to be something extraordinary or 'out there' just a set of circumstances that could be as normal as burning toast - though for me this would be extraordinary as I'm abstaining from all things wheaty. But you get what I mean. For instance, what would this image tell you about the person who owned this room? It could tell you a lot or it could give you false leads as to who they really were but... it certainly could give you some food for thought that would / could start a poem or story. I love that this is possible from just a scene along a windowsill.

(I've had a sudden brainwave regarding the name of the erstwhile love interest of the main protagonist of my burgeoning novel. Isn't it amazing how a name can just crop up from nowhere and say 'you know I'm right and I thought I'd make myself known to you or you'll take an age to arrive at me'. I know its the right name, God knows how it came to my mind and when I looked up what the name means it was even more right. Good golly Miss Molly - its a strange old world.)

Well today is an odd one, I'm supposed to be preparing to teach a belly dance class tonight but instead a chance encounter with a piece of music has caught me and I'm wrapped up in it so such a degree that I simply can't break lose. Does music ever do that to you? At least I have written a poem based around it so I can excuse myself a little I think.

Johanna Warren

I heard you singing,

Notes floated sideways

through unlatched window

Born on half-breath breeze

Caught, suspended on

fronds of fennel, there

Like invisible rain-

drops

of sound, held shivering,

Filling the garden

while I stood, rooted

listening.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yF77LlbnYKM

Its a small world isn't it? This seems to be one of those themes of the day I think.

Today is one where I think I should have been doing more... but then I think about all the 'stuff' that I have done and realise that its creative stuff and that sometimes that doesn't show up in the great scheme of things.

I started the day with FutureLearn's Literature of the English Country House and as I'm an old hand at these courses I joined in with the discussions and guess what, a reply appeared from someone I'd met through the Open University and who was taking the same course now she's no long an OU student. She recognised my name and posted a 'hello' which was fab.

Poetry has flowed out and is what I blame for not having carried on stripping the door - nearly finished now and WILL be continued - am currently cooking a mass of packed lunches for a house full of munchers.

My inspiration today came from putting on a cardigan to keep warm in bed while I studied. This reminded me of my grandmother who gave me a bed jacket and if you don't know what one of those is then its either a little bed worn cardigan or cape thing that ends at the coverlets and was very popular for ladies-wot-lunch in the years before they were even thought of. She also denoted some spinnaka-knickers which weren't well received by me but I did my best to hide it. I remember having great fun fitting myself AND a male partner into them at one point but I did manage to create a suitably gracious 'thank you' face while she was present. So these items came up in my poetry. Now I'm feeling all nostalgic and a little dreamy about my Nan and her very complex but seemingly simple character. I cheered myself up with some ice-cream and writing this so at least one of those activities is good for me.
;-)

    
 Degrees of familiarity

Oh hi, let me introduce you to

My new friends

Ben and Jerry.

We met in the freezer isle 

At Aldi,

Oh I see by your face

You’re already acquainted

The whole family?

My goodness!

What a small world it is

And confirms the theory of

Six degrees of separation.

Yesterday I parked my car in leafy Clifton, walked down Park Street which was teeming with hot and happy people, gazed in at the wonders of Diana Porters shop, and went to my favourite cinema of all time - The Watershed.

It somehow feels rather indulgent to go to the cinema in the afternoon. Somehow there's a subversive quality to it, a defiance of convention that the day - especially a bright and baking one - should be spent doing 'stuff' or seeing friends. I agree with the latter but it was a spur of the moment decision to celebrate getting a distinction in my current OU module and a ginger beer, chat with a friend, bar of chocolate and a movie just seemed to fit the mood.

We went saw Slow West which was rather good and I'd recommend it to anyone who likes journey movies, or any movie that has depth and layers of meaning. It reminded me that one of my little ambitions is to have a movie projector so that I can screen movies in the garden on summer evenings and chill in that ultimate luxury of al fresco movies. I've even got a little sketch in my mind of how I can configure what has to be one of the smallest gardens in town to allow for such indulgence and if I get time I'll post an image here so you can see what my little heart desires. But wait, that dream goes further. In this dream I own a camper van and take my projector everywhere to have the fun of a cinema by the sea, in a wood, or car park at the foot of a mountain. Agh, the wonders of the imagination.

Today however has brought rain, quenching the parched soil in the potted herb garden, creating fantastic sounds on the leafy canopy beyond the garden and a necessitated rushing to the garden to retrieve white sheets and pillow cases left out to dry. The house is full of the sound of birds, pattering of rain and the outdoorsy smell of water and fresh air from the sheets hanging like ghosts of yesterdays sultry abundance over chairs, and dangling from book shelves.

Some might call it unfortunate, other might think the house looks unpresentable but I'm loving the scent and the wonderful continuance of my little dream of the cinema for after all what could be better for receiving images from a projector than a hanging bed sheet?

summer rain on leaves 

brought dreams of sea rushing through

pebbles on beaches

Another day in paradise.... well, if you don't mind the acrid smell of stripping decades of paint and varnish from a door that is. The lengths to which I will go just to prove that I can get this door looking good! Apart from that I am on a high after the OU course results came in yesterday and with some very gratifying news.

So today I have pruned the ancient apple tree that is trained along walls and over a cheap metal trellis marvelling at the way the tree has taken over and now gives strength to the diminished metal structure. The apples are coming and even needed thinning due to their abundance while below its trunk ground bees are making a purposeful trajectory in and out of their subterranean queendom.

As an homage to the wonderful weather I have donned the most ridiculous pair of floral shorts, more like pants with pom-poms on. Over the wall children are playing in the school - two weeks till the summer holidays? - while the tall trees of the abandoned railway track (now grandly called a nature reserve) nod and bow in gentle breezes.

If you're wondering if I'm keeping up my Haiku per day resolution, of course, no matter what there are always haiku's tripping off my pen! Not only that but I'm going to give the students of A215 a surprise by suggesting we compile a book of poetry - an ebook - as we progress through the course. Heady times!

Excited shouts and

Laughter in playgrounds tell us

Holidays are nigh.

Just back from my wonderful holiday at Strete Barton House, leaving the familiar for.... well, more of the familiar to be honest. Its strange how a whole series of coincidences cropped up, from the  decor, books on the shelves, the wooden floors, to the art on the walls. If you're thinking that I chose the holiday and its because I chose it then this is hardly a coincidence, think again. No, this was a present and the person who booked the little break was also totally unaware of any coincidences apart from the similarities of names.

Mind you, they didn't have a half stripped door or other delights of mid-decoration that I have at home, which was a relief.

However, the important question is.... did I write while I was away? Yes I did! I wrote, took photos as visual memory aids and read just a tiny amount too. Sadly I've arrived home to find that my computer memory is almost entirely used up so I've had to post the images to Facebook lest they be forgotten but I'm going to cut-and-paste some here to show you what I'm hoping to use as inspiration over the coming weeks. You could say that the images I've chosen are mundane and you may well be right, but often seemingly mundane things set a whole array of images and associations in my head and these three images did just that.

I've also taken the creation of my book a little further and am beginning to see links and linking devices that I can't wait to share with you. But wait, I'm getting ahead of myself. Here are my images and if I get the opportunity to post just some of the ubiquitous haiku or other poems later today I will. Right now I'm celebrating other mundane things such as washing clothes and cleaning the house as tonight is the birthday celebration of someone very dear so I am a woman divided.
 ;-)

Today I'm writing from Strete Barton in Devon, a totally adorable village that offers endless possibilities for creative inspiration. I'll try to post images later but for now I'll add just a few Haiku efforts penned this evening after walks on the beaches, sitting in the gardens watching bees doing their thing and generally chilling. If you like pebbly beaches where the sand and waves have tumbled the pebbles to smooth semi precious gems, salt lagoons with birds whirling overhead and lovely little cottages with birds nesting in their thatched roofs then this is place is for you.

     Night By The Sea

The red and blue moon

Sliced by sharp waves, floated free

Of its sky born twin

     Swallows

Small arrows whirling,

Calling, flit past our heads as

Evening falls round us.

 

     From My Window

The black inky sea

With golden path extending

Shoreward, calls to me