“I am creative. I am a writer: this is what I do and this is who I am”
I went to one festival talk on my own entitled: A Space to Write. There is a book of the same name which inspired the talk and was already known to me. It had caught my eye in the Sunday supplements a while back and made my way onto the “books to read one day” list, but it’s too costly to buy new and doesn’t seem available as used. Perhaps I could ask for it as a birthday or Christmas present. Anyway: a book in which writers talk about their respective writing spaces and discuss their approach to their craft – wonderful! And the talk was wonderful. I loved it! Continue reading “Final Festival Talk: A Space to Write”
I did have a naïve, romantic expectation of seeing something “like I’d see on the telly”
Our second guided walk was more for B although I had high hopes for it too. We travelled to Charlestown – a little place west of Fowey – which is a purpose-built and perfectly preserved Georgian harbour and has been used in many films and tv productions. Continue reading “Festival Talks and Festival Walks (iii)”
I did worry slightly about whether discovering pleasure in a guided walk puts me even more firmly into a certain age bracket. And then I thought: so what?
One talk down: next came the guided walks. Guided walks have never been my thing. Communal events in general are not my thing. But in this new chapter of life I really do want to embrace the traditions and the history of our adopted home, and to do that properly you need to participate and experience – even if only as a member of the audience. Reading about an event is just not enough. Continue reading “Festival Talks and Festival Walks (ii)”
A number of gentlemen in the audience immediately put their hands to their own ‘flowing locks’
There are a great many events within festival week: walks and talks making up only a part of what’s on offer. There are workshops and musical performances and foodie things; there are debates and book signings and group readings. I was seriously tempted by the harp workshop; Continue reading “Festival Talks and Festival Walks (i)”
“There are few hours in life more agreeable than the hour dedicated to the ceremony known as afternoon tea.” Although I would have to add: “… with a wondrous book to hand”.
Today has been a no-weather day, only the second such day that I’ve acknowledged since we arrived. No-weather days are at the bottom of the heap: no rain, no sun, no wind. Nothing. Just the world waiting… waiting for something to happen next. Continue reading “The View from Here: tea with Daphne revisited”
Inspired by the work of its most famous authoress …
Today I booked tickets for the Fowey Festival of Arts and Literature. I’m so excited! Continue reading “Tickets booked”
I wonder whether Gilbert would have been able to explain the wonderful buzzard activity I witnessed
I stood at the window for some time when I arrived upstairs this morning. The birds obligingly came in numbers and posed prettily. The dull light seemed to amplify their colours. Quarrelsome chaffinches; fragile long-tailed tits and their slightly larger blue cousins. The smart livery of the great tit, and on the other end of the balcony an especially smart female Woodie fed for long minutes whilst I watched. Continue reading “Birds on the Balcony: civilised rooks and tumbling buzzards and Gilbert”