Walking on the edge

I've had eight weeks of cramming new information and forming good working relationships and my head is tired.  I need a mental holiday and the best way is to dig out my rapidly failing boots and camera and take a walk.  I had fun hauling up and down the hills around Ladram Bay, reading the signs stating that "happiness is a holiday home in Devon" and that "this is a cliff edge - thank you for your consideration". That one made me laugh - consideration?  999? Rescue helicopter? It's a long way down at this point.  I agree that having a home in Devon is a happy thing and walked to Otterton for a cheese scone.  I found myself grousing on the way back as all the cars seemed to take the Devon lanes wide, making me want to yell "you are not driving a tank" although fair point, some were pretty large and the lanes are overgrown.  I've been reading a couple of books by Matthew Johnston "I had a black dog" and one lovely one of his mindful photographs.  I would so like to be a better photographer.  His beautiful simple books remind me to make sure life is less frills, more happiness, to beat the black dog with exericse, to learn to be gentle.  I find the last really really hard. I have set myself a target of doing 150 miles to get a medal with "race at your pace" but someone suggested this was too easy, so I upped it to 200.  With the reaction that I then started worrying and knew in myself that that's not good.  I ate humble pie and am doing 150 miles walk challenge in September, which, with a peak district walking holiday should be fairly straightforward for me.  I think it will be the first sporting medal I have ever achieved, although somewhere I have a certificate my good friend bought me for walking up either Snowdon or Ben Nevis and a swimming towel for the herculean effort that was a pool based, 12 week "channel swim" that my friends had to help with as my doctor banned me due to ear infections.  Challenges are great, but I am learning that they need to fit properly.

Lost - searching for home

This weekend I watched the film "Lion" in someone's garden, with a retiring collection being made to Tearfund.  I need to watch it again as for the last half I was fighting neck cramp that put me in bed for a couple wasted hours of Saturday morning.  Waking early and ramming breakfast so you can take painkiller is not my favourite way to wake up.  It's a beautiful, aching, well told, fabulously acted story of a boy who loses his family, his home, his roots and has his new roots in another place soil-shaken out so that he is compelled to find his background, his source.  Being a curious sort, and having missed half with poor concentration, I've ordered the book "a long way home" on which the film is based, from the nicely accommodating library.

I've just read about the importance of home on a friends' blog.  I'm a long time Devonian.  I used to have a beautiful photo on my wall which was taken by someone I loved - a photo of the stone marking a first war cemetery where so many of the Devons gave their lives.  The person I loved remarked that Devonians don't travel well far from home.  Which is true for me. 

I love the pinks of Devon.  "Red" Devon, with it's sandstone cliffs that feed into the pinky soil, the reddish tinge of brickwork, the crumbly browny reds of the Roman walls and the colour that cattle pick up when they are shin deep in Devon mud.  I grew up with a dad whose burr is nothing compared to the deep dialect richness of his mum and dad.  My Kentish mum couldn't understand them first off.  I know the ways around East Devon, the free parking, the hills and back ways, from childhood walks, school run/walks and a lifetime of being adverse to more adventurous travel!

I have been thinking about photographs this week.  My new manager trusted me enough to share her stunning photographs.  She has totally awesome talent and technique.  It took guts for me to share my not so good photos after that but I wanted to.  It inspired me to make a photocalendar for my newly acquired desk (after six rootless work weeks) for the new year.  And I realised how few I have taken this year.  Low photo count is usually a sign that I haven't prioritised any time and space.  And I am feeling dull and dry. About as dry as the yellowed grass was.  I could do with a season of rain. Time to get outside behind a lens and leave my books for evening joy!

Rain

It's raining hooray!!!  I never thought I'd say that. I should be praying and I'm sitting watching grey marbly clouds solidly filling the window.  Rain on glass sounds like rice krispies - sort of crackle and the popping sound as it slides off the glass.  I can hear it drumming on the flat roof and rippling down the drain and the swish of wet car tyres this morning through the open window told me it was damp before I opened the curtains.

The air feels fresher, the plants look bedraggled bless them and I am hoping my colleagues wedding tomorrow won't be a soggy disaster. I've heard a lot about it in the six weeks I have worked there - and the grotty work carpet is strewn with the heart shape confetti we gave her. I think this year I will need to make friends with Autumn.  Last and previous years bouts of depression spoiled my appreciating it and I want to revel in the colours and cools anticipating walking in the Peak District.

Today is the day I get a desk after said six weeks!  Not sure what we will do while the team are trundling around with furniture but it will be nice to have a home.  My colleagues are all wanting to pick desks so, as they are young and I'm not that fussed, I guess I will let them fight over them.  At least I am getting a desk, and my random clutter will have somewhere to go.

A is for Astronaut - the joy of reading several books at once

There's a stack of books sitting on the stairs.  They look at me reproachfully as I bought them back in June celebrating a permanent job.  Since then, they have sat there.  I waded through the "for and against" books on christians and homosexuality and ended up more confused and certain only of the fact that 6 -7 passages in the bible weigh against a fat volume of verses on social ethics and justice.  All of which I probably tramp over on a daily basis, as a comparatively - and that feels a bit of a joke - fat cat westerner.  A wiser friend tells me both sides of the argument sound convincing which is very true.  There is also a book on "cold case christianity" which I leant to someone and wanted to read,  so re ordered one night and so haven't got round to yet

The actual reading is the leaning pile in the front room, cosily sandwiched between the gas fire and the sofa, which accumulates bookmarks, coffee cups if I am not careful and junk if I am miserable - I am tidy to a fault so I am starting to realise that when paperwork and admin pile up, I need to listen to my heart and say hello to what's going on in there!  I know - I want a holiday - it's starting to be good walking season and the peak district walk is 6 weeks away.

So I am actually reading "ask an astronaut" by Tim Peake, which is truly lovely.  I would have adored it as a teenager - child/adult questions to an astronaut : how do you go to the loo in space, what do you eat in space, what happens to the rubbish, lots of more technical stuff and pictures and diagrams.  What's not to like? I've also just finished the railway detective which is about murder in Victorian times; a dastardly plot to blow up the Great Exhibition and take on the train builders.  Extremely enjoyable feel good fiction.  And I have on order from the library "living with a black dog" by Matthew Johnstone and an autobiography of Professor Dame Sue Black whose more serious work I will struggle with but whose views on death I look forward to reading!  A life without reading can't be much fun.

Waterproof Skin

This morning I woke to cool, and huddled under the duvet with the nice sensation of cold feet. 
It's been a long time coming, but today we had solid, grey, drifting rain.
Beautiful with fat bulky clouds, puddles on the pavement, the lights and brights of jackets and umbrellas. 
I didn't prepare. 
I came out the swimming pool, with damp hair to summer shorts and a walking top over my polo shirt.  And was grateful, walking up to see a temporarily hospitalised friend, that I could walk, swim and had waterproof skin.

I practiced the luxurious essential skill that is making a multicoloured patchwork quilt of written thank yous.  Coloured pens and a journal and a lengthy sheltering from early cool and damp.  It makes life sweet and I am grateful to have God to thank but I guess it is still a good life skill to have anyway.

Stop, look, listen, be (a)ware (of trains!!)

I've felt in need of a bit of space and quiet after a busy week of trying to build up my knowledge at work:

This morning I walked along the exe estuary trail - intending to go from Exmouth to Lympstone and take photos and maybe carry on, but I was stopped by barriers and signs explaining the "furry dance" was happening.  I'm guessing this involves morris men and not prancing cats but it meant lunch by the river looking out at the boats and listening to the gentle wash of the water, admiring estuary side washing lines festooned with washing and paper fish! Walking along the trail in the morning, I did the stop look listen as mentioned on the sign.  It was morning quiet, with thin robin song, the creak of my left walking boot, water in the plastic bottle splashing around and the hurtling racket of the occasional train.  Ripple patterns on the water, and the evidence that nature is storing up for Autumn.  There are ripe orange berries, blackberries in the hedgerows, thistledown, sloes and teasel heads.  Every flower seems to have gone to seed and there is a hint of mustard in the air from one yellow plant whose name I sadly don't know.

I realise I've had a brilliant summer.  Barbecues - even ones that don't light, picnics, coffee out, swimming in the sea, walking with friends, sitting in the garden reading.  But I have missed the chance to simply walk and notice what's around me.  That's a solitary pursuit for me and I love it.