I’m taking some time out this weekend – just me and Lydia – to rest and recharge. I knew I’d run out of steam and, after a bit of searching on #airbnb, found a super dog-friendly place just a couple of hours drive away.
It’s a small converted barn, built in the 19th century and perfect as a peaceful retreat.
I don’t have a coherent plan about what to do while I’m here but it involves eating, drinking, sleeping and catching up on a few things.
There is a secure grassy area so I can let Lydia out whenever she wants.
Yesterday she had a walk in the morning as usual, then I took her to a secure dog park near where we live #poochiepark before we set off to come here. Tomorrow we’re booked into a park near the barn #littlepaddocks. So today it’s a pj day for me.
I think Lydia is OK with this arrangement – she looks pretty chilled to me💕
The outcome of my first day of making things from clay at home: small, imperfectly formed, and mine
43 years ago, when I graduated with a degree in Ceramics, I knew that there was something wrong with me – mentally, emotionally – but I didn’t know what or how to deal with it. Since then I’ve been close to the edge more than once and in more ways than one. I nearly lost my life during a psychotic experience in Iceland, felt broken to the point where I didn’t think I could possibly mend, and ultimately pushed myself through such extreme, painful experiences that many times I wondered why.
Thankfully, I also thought ‘why not?’ and bit by bit I found a way through.
Being in survival mode doesn’t leave any energy for forward planning, including consideration of what I would do when I retired. The idea of doing some work with clay again suddenly came out of ‘nowhere’ and I’ve been enjoying going to workshop sessions at a studio not too far from where I live. However, I also thought it would be good to be able to do some work from home, especially during the winter months when I can’t work outside in the garden.
Pieces of a puzzle; sawdust fired 1978
The work I produced at college for my degree show was fired initially to bisque level and then finished in a sawdust kiln. We have no space here for a proper kiln but I’ve been exploring possibilities for sawdust firing; even firing ‘greenware’, that is without having put the pieces through the initial bisque firing. This will produce porous pots that are not ‘vitrified’ as they are when fired to higher temperatures, but some beautiful subtle effects can be obtained.
So with a few basic tools and a dining table, I’m off to a good start. I’m still going to continue to attend the studio sessions – apart from anything else it’s a lovely encouraging atmosphere and I enjoy the companionship and sense of shared experience. But it’s also great to be able to ‘sit and do’ at home – to make whatever I want to make – without time constraints or consideration of anything other than what I’m working on.
This brings me to Poetry/Pottery Rule No. 20: Enjoy the process.
Now that does sound like a plan – the housework may not get done, but these are pots that won’t need washing up!
Red was the colour of your jacket on the chair – with slender, tender fingers curled around a tumbler – as you waited for me there on our first date
Red was the colour of my jacket too there was something about you – the mark on your cheek the way you held your head – it wasn’t love at first sight but I was happy for it to be something else instead
Since then our jackets have become a pair – your slender, tender fingers hold me now in bed – but I’ll always remember our first date when you and I both wore red
The pathways of my mind Are not defined Just like well-pruned roses They shoot and sprout In all sorts of places At paces I know nothing about
The slate chippings in my garden Are sharp and grey They lay flat and easy In the spaces that I make Not knowing why Or how long it will take
Praying to the sky Leaves turn green and fall Orange, yellow, gold Flowers unfold Well-pruned roses Always turn out best Until it’s time to weed again And then it’s time to rest
Places that I know nothing about Spaces that I make The garden of my mind is growing Like a well-pruned rose That buds and blooms Before it goes
Eventually the birds will come To sing their song In the garden of my well-pruned mind Where they belong
A lever arch file is a beautiful thing, made of cardboard and shiny metal, designed to hold papers in place with a lever and a spring.
You can have an A-Z index or a dating system, nothing left to chance, records retrieved, at a glance.
There is something so safe and satisfying about the lever arch file that now sits in a pile in landfill or burnt on a bonfire where the smoke goes up into the clouds.
Now we have digital data, tags and the like, are archives really a thing of the past?
Searches draw blanks, seem random at best will our technological filing systems really stand the test, like the lever arch file did, once upon a time?
Today I pile on warm clothes push toes into boots hands into gloves fix helmet on head put pressure on one pedal after another with grey treads turning on icy tarmac in reflective waistcoat I propel myself down the hill looking like a wasp on wheels
Feet freeze into tennis balls wind works its way in between folds finding skin it’s an easy ride but I’m glad to arrive at work this morning
Evening comes and I do it all over again this time lungs stretch and scream at the incline that challenges me to stop but thoughts of home and rest are the pull
Pushing, pushing, pushing keeps the wheels turning until I arrive at the gate maybe a bit late hair wet with sweat pedals finally still pushing finished for today
Jealousy and insecurity hit me like a brick the other night and left me reaching reeling once again with stomach-churning feelings head over heels for all the wrong reasons nothing to hang on to inside my head or in my heart I didn’t know what to do or where to start
So I bought yellow shoes to change the colour of my mood watched birds of prey and tried to write poems that meant something or occasionally rhymed but not every time
Jealousy and insecurity had hit me like a brick and left me reaching reeling once again but I worked hard to face the pain knowing there was nothing to gain and everything to lose as you reached out to me and I reached out to you until eventually back on firmer ground love once again was found
2017
Obsessive thoughts
Obsessive thoughts of certain kinds impinge on clarity of mind
Will they ever go away these thoughts that linger day by day?
I meditate on calm and peace and still the thoughts come back to haunt I wish I could find some release from all these thoughts that sneer and taunt
Just let them go into the wind one day I will find peace of mind
Glad About 
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