Sunday 17 August 2014

Saturday out in Falmouth

Yesterday we escaped from Penzance for a few hours to go and explore Falmouth a little.  I love the colour and creativity, along with the usual funny contrasts and interesting characters that Cornwall seems to abound in!  It was good to have a change of scene even though we've only been back for a week...  

 Beerwolf Books - the smell of books and beer - and a new, very reasonably priced poetry book. woop.

 Amanzi, a restaurant serving African food.  We had South African lager and Bunny Chow for lunch. mmm.

Monday 11 August 2014

"Sweet Potato" - New favourite song lyrics

We're back in the South West after fun and restful times in Wales and Brighton.

Good things about today: walking along Penzance prom after work, wandering back through Morrab gardens, and listening to Sia all day.  These lyrics are awesome!

 "Sweet Potato"

She cooks you sweet potato
You don't like aubergine
She knows to boil the kettle
When you hum bars from Grease
She senses you are lonely
But still she can't be sure
And so she stands and waits
Stands anticipating

How can she become the psychic that she longs to be to understand you
How can she become the psychic that she longs to be to understand you

He brushes thoroughly
He know she likes fresh breath
He rushes to the station
He waits atop the steps
He's brought with him a mars bar
She will not buy nestle
And later he'll perform
A love-lorn serenade, a trade

How can she become the psychic that she longs to be to understand you
How can she become the psychic that she longs to be to understand you

So give her information to help her fill the holes
Give an ounce of power so he does not feel controlled
Help her to acknowledge the pain that you are in
Give to him a glimpse of that beneath your skin

Now my inner dialogue is heaving with detest
I am a martyr and a victim and I need to be caressed
I hate that you negate me, I'm a ghost at beck and call
I'm falling and placating, and berating myself for staying

I'm a fool
I'm a fool

He greets his stranger meekly
A thing that she accepts
She sees him waiting often
With chocolate on the steps
He senses she is lonely
She's glad they finally met
They take each other's hands
Walk into the sunset

Do you like sweet potato?

Thursday 7 August 2014

Ffald y Brenin

I'm on holiday in Pembrokeshire with my family and we happen to be staying just a few miles from Ffald y Brenin, a Christian house of prayer and retreat centre.  Our friends who built the Cornwall House of Prayer that we were living next to and helping out at were inspired by a trip to this place in the middle of hills and valleys and sheep fields.  It became known after many people had unexpected and profound experiences of God there, and now thousands of people visit.

This morning some of us went over to take a look. It was lovely to be somewhere so peaceful and still; a place set aside for reflection and listening and blessing.  Especially in the sunshine with lots of space to wander and sit outdoors...

This story is not all butterflies and roses
Then again,
Perhaps it is
Delicate wings disguise the struggle they endured
To come into being
The pressure and darkness of the cocoon

Silken petals hide
Thorny stems
Waiting to draw blood
From anyone that gets too close

Beauty and pain
Sunshine and rain
We'll never be the same again

Sorrow and love
flow mingled down
When will my people turn back
Tears the only water
But after a time
We walk from death to life
From lack to plenty
From promises to reality