Blue, here is a shell for you
   Inside you'll HEAR a sigh
   A foggy lullaby
   There is your song from me


Summer Solstice

21st June. Midsummer solstice. Longest day of the year. At 11.30pm last night, my housemates and I decided to jump in the car and head to Stonehenge to witness first hand what exactly goes on during the night before the longest day of the year and when the the rope barriers are removed from around the circle of stones. I imagined a lot of drugs, dreadlocks, Druid dress, drumming, pagan rituals and chanting. There was drumming and I did spot a couple of older gentlemen with feathers in their hair, but the atmosphere of this once spiritual ritual was similar to that of a rather rubbish festival. The site was sprawling with Security in high-vis vests, sniffer dogs, burger vans, metal fencing and people passed out at your feet. One group of girls stumbled past at 1am looking like they had walked straight out of Topshop and had only ended up there because they had heard that this was the non-festival festival to be seen at. We were planning on staying to watch the sunrise, but by 2am we had had enough of the contradictory atmosphere, so headed back and were in bed, drifting off to sleep, just as the sun was starting to wake up. 



Early this morning I was full of positive intentions of completing as many tasks that I have put off for too long. First on the list was to recover some cushions. As good as my intentions were, I seemed to have misplaced my patience which resulted in a broken/tangled/knotted bobbin compartment in my sewing machine. I have left it in the corner of my room with the hope that the Fix-it Fairy will come and sort it out when I am turned the other way.


Tea please

Today I have drunk 4 cups of tea already and it has only just passed midday. I have a lot of time for tea. Especially the good stuff...loose leaves which give you 6 cups of tea, each infusion letting you see them slowly transform from their dried state back into their original open form. I also love meeting people with a passion and last week I had the pleasure of meeting Kate from Lahloo Tea, a Bristol based company which specialises in artisan teas from tiny little farms in China, India and Africa. As much as I thought I loved tea, Kate's knowledge and love for the subject is inspirational. One (of many interesting facts) that I learnt was that all 'tea' (white tea, green tea, black tea) comes from the same bush. Much like grapes to wine, the type of tea that is harvested is dependent upon the age of the leaf, the soil and the climate. The younger the tea leaf, the more delicate the flavour and the lower in caffeine. Right, I'm off to have cup number 5...a darjeeling I think.


Running away to join the circus

No jokes...with a little it of hard work, some chalk powder and guidance from my good friend Holly Black I really think that this whimsical, childhood dream could be realised. Today was my introduction to the circus skills and physical challenges that are the trapeze, the rope and the hoop. I am not going to use the deep crimson bruises and elephantitus swelling at the backs of my knees, the burns on my feet and callouses on the palms of my hands as barbed wire fences in front of my dream cloud. Instead, I am going to have a very hot bath, apply some serious moisturiser and jump straight back up on the apparatus. How could I not with the inspiration and gentle motivation of a truly talented good friend? When Holly Black leaps up on to the two foot wide metal bar, it is as if she is being suspended and maneuvered by invisible wires as the thought of her just having an incredible sense of balance and bodily awareness seems completely impossible. And the whole magical display is made even more wonderful when you remember that there are in fact no wires or puppetry and she does posses great levels of strength and control. These are some high levels that that I will (one day) achieve. Until then, I had best start practicing my pull-ups. 


Spring (...a little late)

I know we are heading rapidly towards the great British summertime (despite the delayed April showers this evening) but I had some films developed today from the end of the winter season. It seems strange to describe springtime as "the end" as it is the beginning of the new. I think it is a good point at which to impose a transition as things are changing and growing all around us. We become part of our environment.


'The Summer Book' Tove Jansson

"How did it die?" Sophia yelled. She was angry.
"Of unrequited love," her grandmother explained. "He sang and scolded all night for his scolder hen and then came along and stole her away, so he put his head under the water and floated away."
"That's not true," Sophia screamed. She started to cry. "Long-tails can't drown. Tell it right!"
So Grandmother told her he had simply hit his head on a rock. He was singing and scolding so hard that he didn't look where he was going, and so it happened, right when he was happier than he'd ever been before.