It’s been a while, hasn’t it? I’ve been shamed into updating my website by at least three people mentioning they’d looked at it. To give you some idea of my lapse, I’d not added anything since early 2018 and last blogged about a year ago. So, I’m better now and will promise to make all effort to keep it up to date. But probably won’t.
Changing Landscapes
I did think this was a good time to write a new blog though, seeing as I’m here and seeing also, as my ‘writing for writing’s sake’ muscles have atrophied and are in need of a good stretch. I don’t think I’ve updated at all since I started my Changing Landscapes project – a grand sounding title that really just started out with getting *very* excited about finding and photographing old industrial/farm buildings in the North Pennines. That was about two years ago (told you it had been a while…) and now that’s grown into a fine collection of… stuff. If you like crumbling old ruins that is. It’s also developed a bit, though I’m yet to refine it into any sort of coherent intended output. At the moment I’m describing it as a bit of a scrapbook, I’m enjoying the process of seeing what interests me, exploring it for a bit and then moving on to something else. There have been a couple of videos of people kind enough to share their expertise with me: lead mining and dry stone walling so far, and I’ll absolutely find time to make a dedicated page for all of this on my website. Probably.
Pandemic
It’s hard to avoid the fact there was is a pandemic raging. We lost some work but were thankful and lucky enough to have enough to get us by. I’m reluctant to spend too much time writing about it all because that’s a l l a n y b o d y i s d o i n g [endless screaming]. It’s been hard for everyone, some more than others so I can’t and won’t complain. I did seem to momentarily lose my shit and write what can only be described as ‘prose.’ Not usually my thing, but for what it’s worth here it is:
Faded Rainbows
An air of misplaced excitement permeated the air as an inevitable lockdown approached.
Pulled from routine like a dog in the playground,
the mood giddy and uncertain.
Walking and walking and walking.
Grey misty moors are a perfect metaphor for prevailing sadness.
The fresh-paper promise of the new year creased and yellowed by March.
Clapping on doorsteps to sustain the NHS,
a pandemic Tinkerbell Effect.
Looking for distractions.
Faded rainbows in windows are a perfect metaphor for bone deep tiredness.
Three-part slogans worsen nausea while waiting for a return to reality,
A hospital sign for missed appointments is blank,
of course.
Holding a stranger’s gloved hand.
Empty hallways are a perfect metaphor for increasing anxiety.
A sudden arrival at an altered normal as the air cools and the light changes.
Tentatively learning how to fill the calendar again,
pencil, rather than pen.
Finding pleasure in small things.
A warm patch of sun on the floor is a perfect metaphor for new beginnings.
Love and Loss
This terrible year also brought the loss of our beloved fluff, Biscuit, which broke our hearts and continues to do so. He filled up a lot of spaces in the 7 years we were lucky enough to have him (he was 8…. we got him pre-loved) and the world is less bright without his lovely, placid, good-natured little soul in it.
And Finally…
I didn’t want to end on a sad note, so there’s lots of positive stuff going on, despite what feels like the apocalypse. Work continues to plod along – I’ve pushed my next book, Celebrating Sunderland back 6 months, and might end up doing so again depending on how the rest of the year pans out, but it’ll get there eventually. It’s currently the Sunderland Literature Festival and there’s lots of stuff going on around that at the moment. I have six videos playing as part of it, this week, the easiest place to see those is probably via my Facebook Page. One of those is a talk on publishing your local history book – that’s coming tomorrow and there’s a written piece to accompany it so that’ll be a good excuse to come back and post again, won’t it…
Enjoyed. Xxxxx