![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tinhuvielartanisSunday 14 May
Surprisingly, I was the first adult up Sunday morning. Eleri, being a kid, got up quite early and was enjoying TV when I walked into the living room. She said that![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
falkenna had been up earlier, but went back to bed. So I won by default, like it was ever a competition in the first place, but whatever.
The initial plan for this day was for us to head out a little early and go to Bath for the day. That didn’t pan out basically because the conversation with Steve andfalkenna was so intense and fascinating. We talked from late morning to about mid-afternoon as hard as we could, discussing Paganism (its various histories, peoples, and locales), group dynamics and dangerously charismatic leaders with questionable intentions, music, guilt, Magick, personal world views, and sundry other subjects near and dear to all of us. I knew that falkenna was a brilliant, insightful, and sensitive soul, but Steve is also quite impressive in his knowledge and wisdom. I wish I’d had more time to spend with him and learn a fraction of what he apparently knows. Eleri is a lucky child to have a teacher such as her dad.
After Steve showed Aunt Tudi a snippet of a jousting tourney of which he was a part, we packed up our goodies and hit the road late. On the way, we stopped at St. James Abson, a very old church that has a special easter egg in the masonry of the structure. Whenfalkenna pointed it out to me, I was beyond delighted. And, even better, the church plays host to a breathtaking ancient graveyard graced with the presence of large yew trees. One such tree was quite big, its canopy spanning at least 100 feet in diameter. Being in the presence of the tree conjured a feeling of sacred safety in me. Beloved of the Crone, the yew is most assuredly a place that feels like home to me. I could dwell under a yew canopy for the rest of my life and be deeply content. The headstones of the graveyard were tilted to and fro, all askew from age and worn by the weather. In other words, St. James Abson has a proper graveyard. I took many pictures of some of the more atmospheric headstones with durgablue particularly in mind. Most of the stone engravings were gone they were so old, but some can still be made out. The entire area was soaked with an aura of peace and memory.
Other than a brief stop at a service area, we traveled non-stop back to Brighton and subsequently collapsed after planning the events for Monday. It didn’t take long, that planning. We decided to stay in and vegetate, and prepare for the party on Tuesday.falkenna had taped some of the shows from Doctor Who’s second season, starring that new squirrelly dude (David Tennant? Is that his name?) who replaced my beloved Christopher Eccleston. We decided to watch those on Monday, catch up on Internet stuff, and go to Brighton Beach late in the afternoon, after which we’d dine at one of the better Indian restaurants. Plans made, we all collapsed and slept like babies.
Monday 15 May
Monday went exactly as planned.falkenna prepared another delicious English country breakfast, replete with sausages, bacon, eggs, and toast. I want to miniaturise myself and just camp out on a plate full of English breakfast food. I’d live in a tee-pee and come out occasionally to nibble at the end of a sausage and roll around in the grease.
After breakfast,falkenna and I discussed various things (like how I was going to survive meeting Barry Andrews) while Aunt Tudi rested trying to keep her back from breaking the rest of the way. Bless her heart, she had the most awful time on this trip with her back. Even though she’s some better now, it’s still a distinct possibility that Aunt Tudi may have to go back to the doctor about her stenosis and may even have to have another back surgery (it will be her fifth one). We caught up on e-mail and LJ, and I watched Doctor Who. The episode with Sarah Jane and K-9 almost made me cry, but I kept myself under control and managed to remain merely misty-eyed.
Oh, and I popped down to the chemists for a pair of tights and a bottle of Highlands spring water. The tights I got for my outfit for the Tuesday party were a bit small, so I had to get another pair. This pair fit me perfectly.
Monday was very relaxing and exactly what I think we all needed. Sure, not much sightseeing was done, but a vacation isn’t all about sightseeing. It’s also spending quality time with the ones you love and that’s what I got to do on Monday, spend time withfalkenna and Aunt Tudi. And they got to put up with me being a gigantic, pulsating nodule of neuroses which, I’m sure, was an utter joy for them both ::she writes with sarcasm dripping from her fingertips::.
After we spent most of the day barely escaping moss growing on our lumpish forms, the three of us got dressed and headed to the beach. Brighton Beach is unlike any other beach I’ve ever been to in that it is comprised of pebbles instead of sand. The pebbles range in size from grains of rice to the size of a man’s fist. It can be pretty difficult to walk on until you get used to the feel of it and discover your own footing. Birkenstocks are not good shoes to wear to Brighton Beach. When walking down the hills to get to closer to the ocean, my shoes suddenly became wee shovels, picking up pebbles and transferring them from the heel area to the balls of my feet. Ow, fucking ow. That’s all I can say. But I prevailed and found myself on the edge of the tide, hunting for specific pebbles to be used for my own Gypsy rune stone set. One of the stones I picked up turned out to be a fossil of a spiraled shell. I’ll need to take a picture of that one and post it here when I get a chance.
Aunt Tudi became enamoured with Brighton Pier. It’s massive and shiny, with lots of lights and sound and humanity. We didn’t go onto the pier, just admired it from afar. After spending some time walking “the stations of the pebblage,” we made our way back to the car and headed for the Indian restaurantfalkenna had picked out for us to eat at. Funnily, the restaurant’s name is Goa. The entire time I was there, I kept hearing D. Wayne Love admonish me, saying “Don’t you go to Goa!” Well, sorry Reverend…..I went and I’d go again if given half the chance.
Of course, this was all more ironic than usual, considering the volume of emails I’ve received over the years questioning if Alabama 3 were actually Shriekback incognito or if Barry Andrews was behind the shenanigans of Alabama 3.falkenna knew none of this, but I swiftly enlightened her in between gigantic bites of butter chicken, rice, and na’an.
Our waiter, a very sweet Bangladeshi man, had an accent so thick I could barely understand a word he said. I’m pretty good at deciphering accents, but I was pretty much lost with this fellow. I could understand just enough to know that he was flirting with bothfalkenna and myself, especially falkenna. I think if, given just a teensy amount of provocation, my friend could easily find herself with a sweet-natured, butter-tongued Bangladeshi cabana boy. Had I the opportunity, I’d go for it.
The meal at Goa was heavenly, the atmosphere was perfect, and the music….OH! THE MUSIC! I have such a weakness for Indian music and this, this was modern Indian pop music with exotic beats and the most melodic and lyrical vocals a soul can imagine. I wish there were some way to find this music they were playing. It’d end up on iGor faster than you can say SURINAMASKA.
After stuffing ourselves like Christmas geese, Aunt Tudi,falkenna, and I wibbled back to the house where I once again engaged in an overabundance of Barry Angst until I finally passed out. When I woke up, it would be Tuesday, the Day I Met the Bald One.
Surprisingly, I was the first adult up Sunday morning. Eleri, being a kid, got up quite early and was enjoying TV when I walked into the living room. She said that
falkenna had been up earlier, but went back to bed. So I won by default, like it was ever a competition in the first place, but whatever.The initial plan for this day was for us to head out a little early and go to Bath for the day. That didn’t pan out basically because the conversation with Steve and
falkenna was so intense and fascinating. We talked from late morning to about mid-afternoon as hard as we could, discussing Paganism (its various histories, peoples, and locales), group dynamics and dangerously charismatic leaders with questionable intentions, music, guilt, Magick, personal world views, and sundry other subjects near and dear to all of us. I knew that falkenna was a brilliant, insightful, and sensitive soul, but Steve is also quite impressive in his knowledge and wisdom. I wish I’d had more time to spend with him and learn a fraction of what he apparently knows. Eleri is a lucky child to have a teacher such as her dad.After Steve showed Aunt Tudi a snippet of a jousting tourney of which he was a part, we packed up our goodies and hit the road late. On the way, we stopped at St. James Abson, a very old church that has a special easter egg in the masonry of the structure. When
falkenna pointed it out to me, I was beyond delighted. And, even better, the church plays host to a breathtaking ancient graveyard graced with the presence of large yew trees. One such tree was quite big, its canopy spanning at least 100 feet in diameter. Being in the presence of the tree conjured a feeling of sacred safety in me. Beloved of the Crone, the yew is most assuredly a place that feels like home to me. I could dwell under a yew canopy for the rest of my life and be deeply content. The headstones of the graveyard were tilted to and fro, all askew from age and worn by the weather. In other words, St. James Abson has a proper graveyard. I took many pictures of some of the more atmospheric headstones with durgablue particularly in mind. Most of the stone engravings were gone they were so old, but some can still be made out. The entire area was soaked with an aura of peace and memory.Other than a brief stop at a service area, we traveled non-stop back to Brighton and subsequently collapsed after planning the events for Monday. It didn’t take long, that planning. We decided to stay in and vegetate, and prepare for the party on Tuesday.
falkenna had taped some of the shows from Doctor Who’s second season, starring that new squirrelly dude (David Tennant? Is that his name?) who replaced my beloved Christopher Eccleston. We decided to watch those on Monday, catch up on Internet stuff, and go to Brighton Beach late in the afternoon, after which we’d dine at one of the better Indian restaurants. Plans made, we all collapsed and slept like babies.Monday 15 May
Monday went exactly as planned.
falkenna prepared another delicious English country breakfast, replete with sausages, bacon, eggs, and toast. I want to miniaturise myself and just camp out on a plate full of English breakfast food. I’d live in a tee-pee and come out occasionally to nibble at the end of a sausage and roll around in the grease.After breakfast,
falkenna and I discussed various things (like how I was going to survive meeting Barry Andrews) while Aunt Tudi rested trying to keep her back from breaking the rest of the way. Bless her heart, she had the most awful time on this trip with her back. Even though she’s some better now, it’s still a distinct possibility that Aunt Tudi may have to go back to the doctor about her stenosis and may even have to have another back surgery (it will be her fifth one). We caught up on e-mail and LJ, and I watched Doctor Who. The episode with Sarah Jane and K-9 almost made me cry, but I kept myself under control and managed to remain merely misty-eyed.Oh, and I popped down to the chemists for a pair of tights and a bottle of Highlands spring water. The tights I got for my outfit for the Tuesday party were a bit small, so I had to get another pair. This pair fit me perfectly.
Monday was very relaxing and exactly what I think we all needed. Sure, not much sightseeing was done, but a vacation isn’t all about sightseeing. It’s also spending quality time with the ones you love and that’s what I got to do on Monday, spend time with
falkenna and Aunt Tudi. And they got to put up with me being a gigantic, pulsating nodule of neuroses which, I’m sure, was an utter joy for them both ::she writes with sarcasm dripping from her fingertips::.After we spent most of the day barely escaping moss growing on our lumpish forms, the three of us got dressed and headed to the beach. Brighton Beach is unlike any other beach I’ve ever been to in that it is comprised of pebbles instead of sand. The pebbles range in size from grains of rice to the size of a man’s fist. It can be pretty difficult to walk on until you get used to the feel of it and discover your own footing. Birkenstocks are not good shoes to wear to Brighton Beach. When walking down the hills to get to closer to the ocean, my shoes suddenly became wee shovels, picking up pebbles and transferring them from the heel area to the balls of my feet. Ow, fucking ow. That’s all I can say. But I prevailed and found myself on the edge of the tide, hunting for specific pebbles to be used for my own Gypsy rune stone set. One of the stones I picked up turned out to be a fossil of a spiraled shell. I’ll need to take a picture of that one and post it here when I get a chance.
Aunt Tudi became enamoured with Brighton Pier. It’s massive and shiny, with lots of lights and sound and humanity. We didn’t go onto the pier, just admired it from afar. After spending some time walking “the stations of the pebblage,” we made our way back to the car and headed for the Indian restaurant
falkenna had picked out for us to eat at. Funnily, the restaurant’s name is Goa. The entire time I was there, I kept hearing D. Wayne Love admonish me, saying “Don’t you go to Goa!” Well, sorry Reverend…..I went and I’d go again if given half the chance.Ain’t Goin’ to Goa
I believe I'm gonna
Shut down my chakras, shift Shiva offa my shelf
Take down my tie dyes, my Tibetan bells
Cool down my carma with a can of O.P.T.
Ain't no call for Casteneda in my frontline library.
There's one thing I know, Lord above,
I ain't gonna go,
I ain't goin' to Goa, Ain't goin' to Goa now
Ain't goin' to Goa, Ain't gonna Goa now.
Ain't dancin' trance, no thanx, no chance to t-t-tranquilise me.
Ain't sippin' no smart bar drinks, you, that don't satisfy me.
Dosing up my dharma, with a drop of gasoline,
I ain't down with Mr. McKenna, tantric mantra talkin' don't move me.
I don'tn need no freaky, deeky, fractal geometry, crystal silicon chip.
I ain't walking on lay lines, reading no High Times put me on another bad trip.
Timothy Leary, just check out this theory,
he sold acid for the F.B.I.
Well, he ain't no website wonder, the guru just went under,
you can keep your California Sunshine.
'Cos the righteous truth is, there ain't nothing worse than
some fool lying on some Third World beach wearing
spandex, psychedelic trousers, smoking damn dope
pretending he gettin' consciousness expansion. I want
consciousness expansion, I go to my local tabernacle
an' I sing with the brothers and sisters
Of course, this was all more ironic than usual, considering the volume of emails I’ve received over the years questioning if Alabama 3 were actually Shriekback incognito or if Barry Andrews was behind the shenanigans of Alabama 3.
falkenna knew none of this, but I swiftly enlightened her in between gigantic bites of butter chicken, rice, and na’an.Our waiter, a very sweet Bangladeshi man, had an accent so thick I could barely understand a word he said. I’m pretty good at deciphering accents, but I was pretty much lost with this fellow. I could understand just enough to know that he was flirting with both
falkenna and myself, especially falkenna. I think if, given just a teensy amount of provocation, my friend could easily find herself with a sweet-natured, butter-tongued Bangladeshi cabana boy. Had I the opportunity, I’d go for it. The meal at Goa was heavenly, the atmosphere was perfect, and the music….OH! THE MUSIC! I have such a weakness for Indian music and this, this was modern Indian pop music with exotic beats and the most melodic and lyrical vocals a soul can imagine. I wish there were some way to find this music they were playing. It’d end up on iGor faster than you can say SURINAMASKA.
After stuffing ourselves like Christmas geese, Aunt Tudi,
falkenna, and I wibbled back to the house where I once again engaged in an overabundance of Barry Angst until I finally passed out. When I woke up, it would be Tuesday, the Day I Met the Bald One.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2006-05-23 03:19 am (UTC)hey one minute...
Date: 2006-05-23 02:17 pm (UTC)Re: hey one minute...
Date: 2006-05-23 09:36 pm (UTC)So, obviously Bangladeshis who love winter and Christmas. I'm with them!
no subject
Date: 2006-05-23 10:58 pm (UTC)You sweet thing you!
We caught up on e-mail and LJ, and I watched Doctor Who. The episode with Sarah Jane and K-9 almost made me cry, but I kept myself under control and managed to remain merely misty-eyed.
I got to see a downloaded version of this epi, rather liked it. (And David Tennant is growing on me..but I'd still push him outta the way to get to Chris Eccleston!)
….OH! THE MUSIC! I have such a weakness for Indian music and this, this was modern Indian pop music with exotic beats and the most melodic and lyrical vocals a soul can imagine. I wish there were some way to find this music they were playing. It’d end up on iGor faster than you can say SURINAMASKA.
Ethno.techno plays music like this on http://www.live365.com. (It's internet radio, but they have a pod cast available on 365 as well.) Hmmmmm..maybe I should burn you a copy of Karsh Kale or Midival Punditz!
no subject
Date: 2006-05-24 01:30 am (UTC)I'd love to listen to live365, but dial-up won't let me on any level where I could enjoy it. ::sigh:: I hate living in the Internet Stone Age.
Whenever you go back to England, be sure to go to St. James Abson in Bristol. You won't regret it!