100 Seconds to Midnight

After publishing last week's blog, and with a slightly clearer idea of the path we should be walking on, the dogs - with Alastair and I in tow - headed back up onto the moors.  The initial climb is steep but it doesn't take long to leave civilisation behind and find yourself looking down on the mills and rows of houses that make up the local landscape, steeped in the heritage of our industrial past.  Nor does it take long to lose sight of the town as you follow the rocky path through the heather.  Occasionally we pass an old stone bridge and I can't help but wonder about the feet and hooves that have crossed there over time.  There is a rugged romanticism about the place on a dry day like this, yet at the same time a sense of foreboding that never quite leaves you as you start to realise just how much you are at the mercy of the elements and how bleak it would be if the weather was less favourable.   Awash with feelings of how fortunate I am to have all this within a half h

"Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?" "That depends a good deal on where you want to get to," said the Cat. "I don't much care where -" said Alice. "Then it doesn't matter which way you go," said the Cat. "-so long as I get somewhere,"  Alice added as an explanation. "Oh, you're sure to do that," said the Cat, "if only you walk long enough." Alice in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll I first used this quote in a presentation at University.  Alice's presence wasn't often felt at our Industrial Marketing lectures and I recall receiving a small amount of kudos for including her on this occasion, which I accepted, but did not entirely deserve.  The truth was I'd seen the quote used in an article I'd read whilst researching the topic, and for whilst the rest of my spiel has long since been forgotten these words have stayed with me - quite possibly out of guilt (although in t

As I sought to describe mindfulness last week, I talked of the small offerings given by Mother Earth that prick my consciousness and remind me to look for the beauty, even when it's hard to see.  I treasure these moments and take them as signs of better days ahead, holding faith in the cyclical nature of the Universe.  They give me something to cling to in the darker days and have provided many a focal point for my photographic exploits.  Occasionally however, along comes a day so bountiful that it feels like the sky has burst open and you can see all the way to the sun.   There are two windows in our bedroom, one on either side of a corner that points East.  Despite my best endeavours to make snug fitting blinds, the sunrise on a blue sky morning has found a way to sneak round the sides, both illuminating and casting shadows around the room.  All the more special for their rarity, I cherish these mornings, and thus it was as we awoke on Sunday.  No time however to linger, we were

Under the somewhat uninspiring headline 'Enjoy brush with creative artists' I have appeared in our local paper.  A small article about an online profile of local artists, of which I am the first to be featured.  There, in black and white, it introduces me as a visual artist and storyteller, the first time I have taken ownership of these 'labels' in print, and I am simultaneously delighted and dubious about my ability to carry it off.  My fear is compounded by the lack of images in the article (save for a picture of me), leaving just a description of my creative drive - that I definitely said - but upon reading sounds a bit pretentious and affected, like the artist I can't help but feel I'm pretending to be daaaarrrling.  I am seeking to evoke a sense of belonging by being present in the moment. Urgh! When being interviewed for the 'How to Fail' podcast Andrew Scott talks about the having the courage of your convictions instead of the almost shameful way

It's life, Jim But not as we know it Not as we know it Not as we know it It's life, Jim But not as we know it Not as we know it, Captain O'Connor/Kehoe/Lister Is it OK to hear voices in your head, if the voices are known to you and situation specific? Surely I can't be the only one who hears TV commentary when I'm baking, cooking dinner for friends and, my favourite one, running? When my inner Foster, Cram and Radcliffe arrive to have a wee discussion about my form, most commonly after a particularly bad face-pull triggers the conversation starter "You can see this is really starting to hurt now."  But when Patrick and Esme from the Great British Sewing Bee start questioning my decisions when trying to construct a dress, the end result of which is I end up ordering replacement fabric to start over, maybe I have more of a problem with this than most. Except that I know they are right and so back to square one I go, again, to a place that is becoming ever in