Rare Bit Blogging

I had a brilliant weekend. A good friend came to stay which proved to be the very antidote I needed to chase away much of the residual negativity following recent events. I love entertaining and having guests means a really good clear out, a proper tidy up, a deep clean and a fresh start.

I had prepared a simple dinner and we chatted, well, like old friends. Suddenly it was 11pm.

Saturday’s activities started with a jaunt up breezy Pule Hill and a good look at Simon Armitage’s Snow, carefully carved into the stones halfway down.

It’s such an enigmatic setting for a poetry reading. On the way down we encountered this remarkable looking insect:

Then on to the open day at Dark Woods coffee near Slaithwaite where we refuelled in the busy mill.

It was getting hot so back we went to HQ to rest and refresh before an early dinner at Norman’s.

My first taste of their small plates last summer was unforgettable and I had been keen to find an excuse to return.

It was almost full at 5pm. We ordered from a mouthwatering menu. I don’t drink alcohol and I wanted something refreshing but not overly sweet. Our waiter suggested a Botivo spritz.

It complemented the plump juicy Gordal olives perfectly:

Plate upon plate of appetising delicacies arrived at our table. Look:

Replete from our feast, we walked steadily up to West Nab. The barn owl swooped enigmatically nearby.

Sitting on the magnificent stones at the summit watching the sun set as perfectly as a scotch egg yolk was a great way to celebrate the summer solstice.

Most visits chez Rare Bit involve a good few hours at Yorkshire Sculpture Park. A haven of creativity immersed in nature, it never fails to deliver on so many levels.

We started in the Chapel where a cascade of thick Rapunzel-like braided tendrils streamed out of the window above.

Inside the cool chapel, the scene was slightly more menacing:

Then on to the Weston, bypassing Damien Hirst’s humongous statues, where there was an intriguing exhibition called Rise featuring rope.

We spent a lot of time in the park looking at the outdoor sculptures. We didn’t see everything but we did see the latest work by Damien Hirst. Regardless of whether you love or hate his works, they definitely incite discussion.

Finally we went to the Underground Gallery to view Hold This Earth, a new exhibition by indigenous North American artists.

It was way too much for me to take in so I’ll be returning to have a proper look. Meanwhile:

I’m still feeling quite raw after yesterday’s county court hearing. The joiner who did such an appalling job of fitting my kitchen a year ago made a claim against me for not paying him the full amount. I made a counter claim in response for his shoddy workmanship and sh**y attitude.

We had mediation in March but we couldn’t reach an agreement. After months of gathering evidence and preparing the case I was very much ready to bring matters to a conclusion. Despite having a strong case, I felt uncertain. I was right.

In the end, after some to-ing and fro-ing and extreme discomfort on my behalf, we were encouraged by the judge to call it quits. It’s a relief since this matter has been at the forefront of my mind for over a year now and I was desperate for closure. I’ve let so many areas in my life slip, especially my career.

One minute the judge was kind, then he laid into the claimant for not formatting his evidence correctly. He proceeded to inform me that he hadn’t even received my evidence bundle. I handed it in at the court office personally! In any case, if the additional documents I’d emailed subsequently were anything to go by, I hadn’t followed the (easily missed) formatting instructions either! With hindsight, it’s interesting that we both missed these crucial instructions.

I was shocked and disappointed. It meant he didn’t have any of the information I had painstakingly pored over for hours, fastidiously fact checking and sifting through minutiae which dredged up uncomfortable feelings from that traumatic time, carefully adding the case number to each document, re-reading, re-reading. I felt overwhelmed, sick to the stomach. It was as though my whole world was being pulled down from beneath me. Weeks of work, arduous hours spent at the laptop for nothing.

After the judge left us in the courtroom to attempt to resolve matters between us to no avail, he came into the oppressive chambers a third time and proceeded to tell us that if we didn’t resolve matters there and then, another trial could take months. We’d have to pay for an independent expert to inspect my kitchen and even then it was likely I’d lose. It could affect our credit scores. He also said that if we wanted to adjourn, he could decide in favour of the claimant since he didn’t have my evidence bundle. He really laid it on thick.

It would have been foolish to press the matter further. We both reluctantly agreed to call it quits. It was devastating but there was nothing else to be done.

It took a while for things to really sink in but by today, I’m glad it’s behind me. I can genuinely say I don’t care about this cursed kitchen anymore, or this house for that matter. It’s just a house. It no longer feels like home.

I woke up thinking I’m ready to move on from here. It’s time for a new chapter. A fresh start.

It’s been a tricky Spring so far. Bookings have continued to fall and I’ve been preoccupied with the exciting and more often terrifying prospect of exploring different ways of earning a living. I love playing and music has always been the central focus of my life, but never has there been a more challenging time in terms of bringing in paid work. I must’ve played 10 fayres recently resulting in no bookings, so I can’t help questioning if there’s something wrong with my playing. I don’t think there is but perhaps people pick up on my underlying despondent energy. I’ve come to the conclusion that fewer people are getting married and the cost of living crisis is truly taking its toll. This has in turn taken its toll on me.

I have a busy fortnight now and I’m deeply grateful for that. Of course, my car decided it was a good time to play up and it started to make a worrying grinding noise last week. I took it straight to the mechanic who said it’s the clutch. He can’t fit me in until next week. I found it somewhat unhelpful when he said it might do another 100,000 miles or it might just pop tomorrow and when he advised me to use it as little as possible. The car survived last Saturday’s wedding so if I can do tomorrow’s very local gig, Monday’s church ceremony and get to the hotel to play for the wedding breakfast, I’ll be delighted and my car can enjoy even more time off.

I took my mechanic’s advice and walked to all my meetings and appointments this week. 25 miles so far and I’m relieved my feet and body are still strong enough. I chose a good week to go carless:

Yesterday was the best though. Straight after teaching I walked to my appointment in Marsden:

The hills were alive!

In the words of Isak Dinesen “The cure for anything is salt water: sweat, tears or the sea”. Got 2 out of 3, and moorland water is a fine substitute for the ocean.

I went for a walk after practice yesterday. I walk most days, not particularly far but it’s a vital part of my routine. On my way down I suddenly saw the sky and a few stars. At 4pm? I hear you ask. Yes, I slipped on some mud on a slope and fell on my back, jarring a shoulder that was already sore from playing the previous evening. I was practicing multitasking – I was on my way to the recycling bins and I had my backpack on with one glass jar in it. Just my luck I thought as I fought back tears and swore, more at the shock of falling than anything. Thanks to my padded sit mat, the glass jar remained intact but I bruised my spine.

I started to worry about my bones. I fall occasionally and I try to see it as good practice for getting up and carrying on. It’s also quite reassuring – nothing broke so my osteoporosis can’t be that bad.

I am struggling this winter though. January seemed to last forever and February feels twice as long again. I need to diarise things to look forward to. I want to get the court case out of the way first though. There’s a chance I’ll lose in which case I’ll have fewer options. I’m desperate to escape. I keep burning out, mainly from overthinking but my body makes hormones for a reason and when they’re depleted, so is my stamina, mood buoyancy, focus and energy.

I do have days where I’m content and almost vibrant. On Tuesday (the sunny day) I passed through the little cemetery up the road. I had previously noticed clusters of crocuses and snowdrops through the wooden gates. Some graves had flowers bursting abundantly through the patchy grass and dead leaves.

Part of me likes to imagine this unmarked grave holds the remains of a kind and gentle old soul. That’s why such beauty thrives here. Gotta keep believing…

Never Offer Your Heart to Someone Who Eats Hearts
Alice Walker

Never offer your heart
to someone who eats hearts
who finds heartmeat
delicious
but not rare
who sucks the juices
drop by drop
and bloody-chinned
grins
like a God.

Never offer your heart
to a heart gravy lover.
Your stewed, overseasoned
heart consumed
he will sop up your grief
with bread
and send it shuttling
from side to side
in his mouth
like bubblegum.

If you find yourself
in love
with a person
who eats hearts
these things
you must do:

Freeze your heart
immediately.
Let him—next time
he examines your chest—
find your heart cold
flinty and unappetizing.

Refrain from kissing
lest he in revenge
dampen the spark
in your soul.

Now,
sail away to Africa
where holy women
await you
on the shore—
long having practiced the art
of replacing hearts
with God
and Song.

In my writing group last week, the tutor brought in a plate laden with slices of crisp green apple and halved cherry tomatoes, an interesting combination. We were encouraged to write about anything that arose. Here’s what I wrote:

Oh cherry tomato, you are so red

You grow on the vine and not in a bed

I pick you so ripe right before you burst

You make my soup better for sure, it’s not worse.

I mix you with onion, get tears in my eyes, I add

garlic and basil, a snip of fresh chives

Because you’re a fruit you could be confusing

You make good gazpacho, you sure take a bruising

I sneak you in salads, I smuggle you in

To a number of dishes, your flavour’s a win

Tomato you’re sweet, you’re tasty, you’re tart

You’re small you’re petite, you’re a work of art.

…I saw a sky of the brightest blue. A brisk sunny day in January is most welcome, especially when it follows a cold day of perpetual rain. As usual, I lacked the luxury of time to languish in the surprisingly warm sun so I soaked up the brilliant warmth with an urgent thirst. I love being outdoors come rain, wind or shine although I won’t stay out as long if it’s wet, and cold rain is my least favourite weather.

While I was perched on one of my favourite stones, I recorded a cheerful birthday video message. It’s impossible to be miserable on such a day.

By this evening, a thick veil of fog has enveloped the village and I’m pleased not to be out in it.

I received 2 books for Christmas which I love and they’re giving me some deeper insight into seasonal cycles. I now know that this intriguing specimen

is a hoof fungus. Look at its underside:

The only problem is that there are no photos or illustrations in the book so I end up using my phone in bed to help me recognise UNO’s (unidentified natural objects).

One of the books is an almanac. I’ve never had an almanac. I love the feel of that word in my mouth. Try it! I patiently waited to stumble across a piece of shedded silver birch bark for this exercise

although it might be a while before it dries enough for me to write on it.

It’s been a good week and it picked up as the weekend approached. My mood has been more buoyant and I’m sure that’s got something to do with waving goodbye to the longest ever January. I swear it gains a week every year.

Last Saturday I played for a wedding promotion event at a venue where I’m a recommended supplier, and on Sunday I played at a regular local fayre. These events are really tiring and as yet, no uptake. I try to reassure myself and not take it to heart but it does cause me some concern. Paying to work and getting no business is the pits, it really is.

However, on Sunday evening, after the fayre, I got an email from a couple I met a year ago who are now very keen to book me for their wedding this year, so there’s a silver lining if ever I saw one.

And today, Monday 2 February, feels like my blue Monday. It’s a grey damp day. I hear the rainwater dripping steadily into the drain outside. Imbolc is behind us and the full moon arrived last night bringing with it an ensuing flatness today. Yesterday seemed a good day to pack away my Christmas tree and its embellishments, a day earlier than planned – today is Candlemas – but it felt like the right time. That might also be a factor – delayed post Christmas blues. I spent a significant amount of time working on my laptop over the past 4 days, so that’s definitely a factor and, somewhat unusually for me, I’m not in the mood for exercise.

I want to be in southern Spain but I can’t go this winter. I crave light, brightness, sea, sand. The weather seems to exacerbate my negative outlook and my problems become a hundred times bigger than they are in reality. I’m finding planning ahead difficult and I’ve slowly been coming to terms with the fact that I probably won’t be undertaking any more major home improvements once the remedial work is completed on the kitchen. I’m grateful for my home but the shabbiness grates.

There’s only one thing for it – bed by 7pm.

In my reading group yesterday, one of the exercises was to choose a line from a poem as a starting point. Here’s the line I chose:

“The smoke travels deep to the seat of memory.”

And here’s where it took me:

She sits to attention in her armchair beside the blazing fire, logs and coal aglow, her fingers blackened by the ink from last week’s headlines in the Free Press. She licks her thumb and forefinger before deftly rolling the large sheet of flimsy flammable paper to make a tight stiff scroll. She twists the tube and folds it like giant origami. And there it is – kindling for tomorrow’s fire. I look at her in silence, marvelling at her skill.

She disappears into the small kitchen. I hear the hot water tap gurgling while she concocts a heady mix of green Fairy Liquid and Imperial Leather to remove the stubborn ink from her wrinkled fingers.

A few years after she died, I asked Mam for Nain’s wedding ring. It was a simple gold band but the magic for me was where the band was worn thin from years of hard work. She never ever removed it.

Stars shine tonight

A moon full and bright

The frost’s bitter bite

There’s no more fight

Be gone all spite

Reindeer in flight

They pull with all might

Sleep is in sight

Put out the light

Goodnight, goodnight.