reasons to be cheerful - part 2,073

So - what are my reasons to be cheerful today? It's not raining. For five minutes at least.

I got the train to work on Monday (my car got sick on the way to the Urusen gig on Friday - the gig was brilliant) and so my day was bookended by walks to and from Frome station and Temple Meads. Which, although raining that day - rather a lot - was delightful. I wish I had the time and money to take that option more often.
Crysse's birthday this week - see pic with Annie and (Niamh? sorry if I can't spell that properly) at the dinner party last night to celebrate the birthdays of all three - mucho Leo energy around, with Karen's birthday coming up. Last night's celebration another reason to be cheerful - a veritable smorgasbord of delights for our delectation. Including songs from Annabelle - such a multi-talented group!


Sunday saw Crysse and I fetching the car (the RAC a little less beleaguered by then, but still giving us an hour or so writing time while we waited) and enough sunshine to take a long walk in vest tops... before Crysse's anthology launch.

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A brilliant evening, with a live n'lippy poem squeezed in with Crysse's anthology readings. Such delight to see in print so many poems whose birth I have attended, so to speak... but even more pleasurable to see so many people supporting the publication of the anthology. For Crysse's take on this and Frome Festival (among other writerly things), see http://crysse.blogspot.com/

The writer-in-residence 'award ceremony' following on the heels of the 'Are we nearly there yet?' launch meant it felt like Christie's was becoming my second home... Judge Helena Drysdale asked if I was an actress; I was thrilled to think the narrator of my story sounded so authentic - got something right! A challenge to read such erotic material in public (especially looking like a drowned rat, having arrived straight from the station - hence no pix!).
My car is now fixed, so that's another reason to be cheerful.

The rest of the week has been work and rain, rain and work... though by comparison with some areas, we're getting off lightly...
I have a week's holiday now. So even if it does keep raining, I'll have some writing time, some exercise - and some rest!
If my skin condition is at all related to stress, then the next week should see some improvement.
All in all, many reasons to be cheerful...

English summer days

Today's weather has continually changed character, raining one moment, sun shining the next - and sometimes raining through sunny spells. The cloudscapes have been utterly amazing; skies I would never tire of painting if I were an artist (although I might die of frustration at not being able to capture them adequately!)
In the run up to the Jools gig at the Larmer Tree Festival, I wouldn't have put money on our chances of staying dry - but we were blessed with a bright, breezy afternoon and evening.
Such fabulous grounds - this 'grande arch' not the only interesting piece of whimsy. In one folly, full-size figures modelled and dressed as an elderly vicar and his wife, clutching festival programmes in their fabric fists. Amid the trees, multi-coloured hammocks strung in quiet clearings. Along pathways, mini-avenues of roomy tents with a plethora of healing practitioners enticing festival-goers into their opulent interiors.
An alternative marketplace with stalls selling the usual fare, an artists' corner, beer tents and a separate 'snacksville' area. Brightly coloured lanterns promised a magical effect after dusk - although it was magical in dappled sunlight,too.
In daylight, the main stage somehow benignly innocent of the energy about to erupt... which I only managed to fix digitally as blurry dark shots whose foregrounds are filled with people's backs...
Jools always puts on a brilliant performance. There are many things in this world which transport me to another dimension, and a Jools gig is one of them (though, to be fair, two and a half hours of dancing is likely to create altered perception without Mr Holland et al). Interestingly, the opportunity to see him often coincides with important transitions in my life - which will add to the intensity of the experience...
But it's not simply the music - which is always superb - or the line up (guests included Lulu and Ruby Turner this time), but the passion and verve with which he inhabits showmanship as well as music.
At the Larmer Tree gig, mirror balls in the trees played with the light beams to decorate the leaf canopy, and peacocks called through the night...
Wonderful.
Home about 2am, and since then, time feels like sand in my fingers, as if I overspent from my pleasure bank and am somehow repaying with interest...

getting back in the swing...

Or going with the flow?
An eclectic mix for live n'lippy - aka me & Crysse - to perform to at Bath Poetrycan on Monday, (pic taken by ace haiku poet, Alan Summers - thank you!).

It's not often I'm in town at 9.30am on a Saturday morning, it's NEVER. The first full day of Frome Festival dawned bright and sunny... A batch of 14 writers despatched around shops in Frome...
I wasn't so early in town today that I could grab Alan for a photoshoot with us, though! (He was one of the 14, just not in the pic).
So, back to today... What window would I draw from the hosting shops? (In 2005, I got a real jammy spot, La Strada!)


Up the hill this time, Catherine Hill, to the amazing 'Poot'. As the external shot doesn't do it justice, let me just quote their sign; 'Handmade original delights, clothing and Fox's furniture at "Poot" Catherine Hill'.
No shortage of inspiration, then - though I wasn't at all concerned, trigger writing is never a problem - the quality is something else... I woke on Thursday with the seeds of a poem; such joy is rare, but boded well for this morning.
Back on the hill. Time is doing that loopy business again... whoever said time is chronological is talking through the sphincter which doesn't often see the light...
The narrator in my story just had to be an actor, in these fabulous surroundings... A narrator who decides, in the face of huge temptation, that her chosen career takes precedence over any sexual temptations... Hmmm! Prophetic perhaps... I didn't take an image of the 'prop' I used - maybe I'll go back next week and see if it's still in the cabinet. It would be lovely to post the story with that image...
here I am, nearing the conclusion (cheers, Crysse!) Shame I missed lunch and laughter with Crysse and Ali Clink - oh, the grind of the writer's life! (It gets better...)
Home to check my email (alerted by Mike that he'd sent one) and a veritable mountain cascades into my in-box- but some from my writer friends, which is always a pleasure.
Time for a walk in the sun...
Several years ago, I searched for a suitable place outside my study to motivate me through the novel - if I had to 'go out' to work, as I do for other employment, I figured I could be more productive. Look what I found -the world and all that's in it! (I'll get that novel written yet - I love it when I hear of fantastic writers who work for years on books. After all, I only want to write one novel, if it takes me twenty years I'll have a long and happy life - and also write other stuff; poetry, essays, process books, journals...)
A leg stretching hike to get to this particular branch of Hazel Stewart Inc...
this one with the added bonus of 'private solarium'.Just what the doctor would order (if he could) for my poor skin. So I sat in this field, on a glorious English summer day, and wrote about the fun I'd had with my character. And the people I'd talked to... I wrote about an issue that's getting under my skin a lot these days... and about the wonderful week I've had. How full of wonder, indeed - wonder, poetry, magic and mischief. The midsummer sprites are out in force! And then I walked some more, took some more photos...
My neighbours roses are a delight. Those nodding over the end of my road here are the ones which enchant me with their delicate perfume at the end of every lanes walk variation I meander along.

I went down for a J2O at the street party. Forgot my camera - because I didn't want to take my rucksack. The whole of Frome in carnival mode; a live music stage at the market cross and a seventies rocker outside the Blue Boar, food marquees on one side, tables and chairs on the other, the road thronged with happy people - even a Griffin beer tent! I saw loads of people I haven't seen for ages (some since before Ath was born!). I caught up with Vicky from my Selwood Hospital days, spoke briefly to Lindsay Clarke and his wife Phoebe, to Will Angeloro, to fellow Liquid Jammer (can I say that if I only play with words?) Laurie Parnell, got hugs from Peter Mac and Emily Gerrard, said hi to Kate (who beat me to the job on the media team - no regrets, it was hers!) so I'm glad I went...
and now I'm off to read today's paper.
Bliss is the writer's life!

trek article

Go to http://www.liverhealthtoday.org/ to read the article on our trek in 'Liver Health Today'.

tranquil interludes

In lieu of words, some images of a beautiful morning. The words are flowing elsewhere at the moment... If blogging is more about pictures sometimes, that's fine by me. (If only I could line them up properly....)

if you go down to the woods today...

the surprise is... summer magic!
I love this picture.
Luce was happy to pose with Lucky - but it wasn't till we got home that we could see the unexpected lighting and reflections in the background... Kind of a metaphor for the gift of our evening and day together. So much unexpected depth...

Our intention today was a long, gentle ramble in Longleat Forest. After an hour and a half of the gentle stuff, life became somewhat trickier...

The last time I tackled a cross-country adventure like today's was with Mr Super-hero and the tribe of three about ten years ago - so Luce and I probably had to trailblaze through ten years of rhodedendron growth! Strangely, it didn't seem to put her off the idea of a few days walking in Scotland... so we've set a provisional date...
Wonderfully tasty baguettes at the Bath Arms in Crockerton... deliciously decadent (although I passed on the spritzer), followed by a swift pilgrimage to Siegfried's grave. Drove Luce and Lucks back to Bristol; my turn to crow over a book collection and read selected poems seized on with delight - Siegfried's mate Wilf, Liz Jennings, TS Eliot...

approximately four weeks since I last had TIME for a blog post. I've been writing, walking, working and healing... tinkering with and workshopping a new story, working on a 'live n'lippy' set with Crysse. Several 'boogie nights' - John's RAOB investiture, karaoke at Croyde, Barton Hill Settlement's Community Jam last night... Ath went to Sri Lanka to be his dad's best man (took some cracking pix AND wrote while he was there!). The chakra healing group have met again, and I've done some long overdue 'spring cleaning' of my living space and my psyche.
My initial PCR came back negative!!!!! Fingers, toes, arms, legs and ankles crossed for the one in six months...
I made 'green soup' from leaves gathered on a walk with Crysse and Peter (I can't recall the name of the plant, but the soup was scrumptious).
I managed (somehow) to prepare the funder's report for work before the training weekend...
and then there was the training weekend.
Exhausting yet exhiliarating... battles with the surf such an amazing buzz (Gar, Sar, Dave Mac and me), yet fabulous de-stressor. Taking the karaoke mike without alcohol (there's novel...)
Home again, salads, fruit and good grub galore, long light nights, flying high as the proverbial kite - it sure is summer all right... (unbelievably trite, but rather fun all the same).
Watched the slow flight of an owl as I drove home from Bristol tonight...

MEDICATIONS COMPLETE!!!!

and back in the landscape again...

Neutrophils and haemoglobin down again last week, but as my last injection was a reduced dose, we went for it anyway. Well, I did, with my specialist nurse's permission. For the first time, Ath was around and in 'my space' for the procedure (he's usually in bed before his 2am shift at Sainsburys); actually absolutely the right time to be around - to 'celebrate' the last one!

Friday, I went to the eye clinic (lovely personable specialist, really interested in tx and its side-effects, having known someone in whom it triggered psychosis) to be told that my symptoms are migraine minus the headache... Actually, maybe they've not been minus the headache sometimes; I stopped taking much notice of those as they seemed such a regular feature... Pupils massively dilated from the eye exam, I wasn't allowed to drive for 4-5 hours. Bit of a bummer.

Still, it gave me the rest of the day off work, even if skulking around Bath in dark glasses on a dull day made me feel like a coked-up minor celebrity... Hanging round a very draughty and cold bus station for a bus home exacerbated the chills, so I decamped to bed for the rest of the day... and missed a trip to the Rondo in the evening (bit of communication breakdown there). The rest was appreciated, though.

On Saturday I met up with Emily and Crysse for a walk on Marston estate lanes (see photo - em, as usual, just landscape even though I did have friends with me!). It was a glorious day, and we walked for a good few miles... such joy! also the opportunity to delve into collective female wisdom on an issue that's been bugging me for some time... Lots of reading, lots of writing... an excellent weekend!

Followed by a Bank Holiday, with a Pilton writers meeting. Chuffed to bits to get a new story completed for our internal competition... I can't remember the last time I wrote a complete piece of short fiction - as opposed to a mere fragment.

Work late on Tuesday, and another bloody migraine episode - short enough not to be a real problem, but a nuisance all the same. The team let me away early from the trainers' meeting, so I only did half a day in the end. Wednesday, back to the GP to get advice on the lesion on my wrist (classic insect bite in someone immuno-suppressed, apparently) and how to prevent the extensive bruising on my legs from scratching (stop the itching with an anti-histamine - except it doesn't, I feel like a bitch with fleas...) Lazy evening - watched Ralph Fiennes in the frothy Maid in Manhattan. For me, he's never matched his Almasy...

Thursday was my first day free of ribivirin! Shiatsu with Carla, and some success in encouraging the fluid from my ear to drain (been deaf in my right ear for five weeks now). The pressure in my skull lessened, anyway. Crysse and I met up to write in Christies, plus a wee stroll in the rain (and I know why I don't normally bother with an umbrella - but at least it kept the worst of the rain off!) Hopefully a couple of new poems for live n' lippy, but more crucially, a good session tinkering with potential entries for the New Ventures competition. I'm crap at rewrites, and tend to put it off... indefinitely! So poem seeds often sit abandoned for years... like neglected children, how can they flourish and develop their potential if their mother ignores them? (I'm right - people like me shouldn't breed, they just don't do the motherhood thing well at all...) Blood counts better - except my white cells. Full range next week, and a proper appointment with my nurse - it's been a weekly phone check-in for weeks and weeks...

Our team's development day today. Aside from an early start (awake at 5.30am) to get there on time, a lovely easy day - wall-to-wall meetings or workshops are so much easier than dealing with service users!

But the main reason I began this (probably over-detailed) account of my last days of tx is that I went for a walk after work today. The rain went off, and there was at least an hour or so of daylight... So I donned those seven-league boots, and went for a proper tramp in the lanes. The skyscapes were incredible, and such colours... the landscape has gulped at the rain, resulting in such intensity of fragrances and colour to rival that in the sky... the birdsong always seems particularly musical after rain, as if the birds are celebrating a break in the weather... SUCH a gift. I've missed (proper) walking so much!

literary associations

Not a particularly good shot, I'm afraid, but Kipling Avenue is clearly visible in the background... Part of this building used to house the school Kipling went to, and it's featured in 'Stalky & Co' (which Crysse has lent me).
Mike and Fiona lived in numbers 4 and 7...
And then there's the fact that the place itself is named after Kingsley's novel...
All good auspicious and synchronicitous stuff for the reinvigoration of writerly creativity!

dawn watch

A sleepless night courtesy my beloved son (acutely distressed following being jumped by four lads in Frome town) gave me the gift of watching the dawn from the seashore.

In my haste to capture more of this, I jammed the charged batteries in the camera - curses! Back to the old notebook and pen, then...

Westward Ho!

Four days in Westward Ho! - wonderful symbolism... Mike, Fiona and Dick below, outside our chalet. I could see the sea from my bed... What a treat! Good company, good food, lots of gentle walking, meals out (even a live band). Lots of writing, lots of fun - definitely my most joyous time on treatment.

A real delight.

more temporal changes - another break from the trek narrative

goodbye blossom...

The frothy blossom filled my windows as predicted (I didn't need to be clairvoyant to get that one right!) On the 13th April, this tree looked 'twiggy', with tiny buds of promise. I'm glad I snapped this through my study window, as now there is merely a shrivelled brown residue amid the green. Still, I can always have a screensaver image to remind me of the promise of Spring...

rendezvous with our transport

Not exactly your standard stroll to the bus stop...

But still the closest thing to a proper road that we've seen since disembarking from the bus at Phaliya Sangu. We're all charmed to bits with the tinies trotting off to school in their immaculate uniforms (how do these people keep themselves and their clothes so pristine? They put me to shame...)

As Jeff said, 'Chicken in a basket'...

We follow the course of the Marsyangdi River...
And guess what? Yours truly gets separated from the rest... Jeff & Serge are up front; I can't keep their pace. The others have stopped for a comfort break.
Both 'sections' are out of sight.
On the road, our porters don't need to keep an eye on us.
I suddenly feel more vulnerable than at any point on the trek so far. I'm isolated from my companions, and our 'caretakers' are now concentrating on transporting our luggage. The road is the closest thing to 'busy' we've encountered since leaving Kathmandu, I'm wandering about in my usual dwam (easy target...) and I don't speak the language...
Plonker or what?
There's peaceful solitude and there's bloody stupidity.
Chastened, I close the gap.

striking our last camp

Like the cake from the previous night, our days of mountain trekking exist now only in memory and digital image...
Striking camp for the last time is bittersweet, flavoured with the triumph of what we all achieved with the help of Jeff and our wonderful porters, and with the sweet sorrow that today we leave these glorious mountains behind to return to Kathmandu.

I squeeze in another dawn dance meditation session before my fellow trekkers are up (I'd have to forgo sleep altogether to beat our porters!).
A permanent loo cubicle should feel like luxury - but it's made even less attractive than our travelling loo tent by the news that the shower cubicle abutting it has a resident scorpion. (I thought there were no nasty creepy-crawlies in Nepal, Jeff?)

Last breakfast 'in the field'.
Not much beats alfresco eating - except actually taking time to appreciate it...

Bhule Bhule - last camp

We are a source of amusement to the local population as we descend the last stretch of our 100km trek to our camp by the river side at Bhule Bhule.
Down, and down, and down, and down...
I have to say, the Heaven Guest House looks anything but heavenly! - no hardship to be under canvas again...

Our inexhaustible beer supply now comes into its own... With a chilled bottle of Everest beer clutched in my sweaty fist, I clamber down the river bank to ease my throbbing feet into the glacial water and sing my heart out into the roar of the racing torrent...

There's a real celebratory atmosphere at our last camp - not least because our porters bake us a congratulatory CAKE! As everyone turns in for the night, Sergio wants to check out any potential for nightlife at this popular spot for trekkers. I too, am curious.

We find a sort of tea-house-cum-bar close to the Heavenly Guest House. Dawa is ensconced with the Tibetan refugee women who were selling jewellery earlier; one, Tiri, treats me to a cup of tea. The ambience is the same as in hostelries the world over - this one may cling precariously to its foundations, and resemble a dilapidated front room - including cable tv in the corner - but only the music of the language pinpoints place.

goat bells, butterflies and helping hands

There are grazing animals on the slopes now, their tinkling bells our accompaniment as we stop for a breather. A butterfly lands on the stone of the resting stage; the team burst into song, the Nepali song which the schoolchildren sang to us. Jeff translates; my heart is fluttering like silk on the wind, I don't know whether to sit on top of the mountain or fly...

The terrain gets steeper again; testing achy knees.

Our path disappears - landslide. Our porters are unfazed; but most of us need extra help. I'm lucky to have Karna's strong clasp to guides me over the trickiest parts. His quiet strength seems to flow direct to my soul through the contact.

The slopes are changing; crop terraces once more in evidence.

continuing the descent

Group shots are taken to celebrate our successful wander up to the gateway of heaven.
If we were intrepid orchid hunters, we'd be richly rewarded...

The rainforest looks rather beautiful - but turns out to be an unexpected war-zone as leeches drop from the trees, slither up our poles, sneak through laceholes into our boots... The battle spoils enjoyment of this ancient landscape. By the time we reach a leech-free clearing to regroup and check the status of the battle lines, my levels of revulsion are so intense that I have to ask Tanka to help me eject the unwanted passengers curling around in my boots.

But the views remain unsurpassable, whatever challenges are thrown our way.

eventful camp

My first encounter with leeches... a lesson not to sit on the ground! The readily available beer supplies are once again too tempting to resist - and may help me sleep...

They don't.

Wakefulness provides the opportunity for reflective writing, awkward though that is in the tent (trying to read is challenge enough). My breathing is still a bit peculiar, but after Ventolin shakes at the start of our descent - which no doubt increased the physical tension magnifying knee troubles - I decide going without an inhaler is my best bet.

An early morning reiki session produces some very interesting visions. I feel I can no longer tolerate confinement in our tent, and wander to the outskirts of camp (um, it would seem that some lessons I can be a bit reluctant to take on board...)

Being a perennial rulebreaker may make me a pain in the arse at times - but it also bestows precious gifts. I find a space where I can see icecaps and the rolling foothils back towards Kathmadu. Going through the stretches of a dance meditation in the light of sunrise on the slopes of the Himalayas, having survived the challenge of climbing to a lake on the roof of the world... priceless.

If refusing to follow conventions (even when they're there for good reason) is such a bad thing, why is it so frequently intensely rewarding?