Street shopping and Glastonbury torr-ing

The start of March has been cold but beautiful. Spring is in the air and it feels good! To celebrate, I'm planning mini-breaks and new wardrobes. Saturday was spent whiling away the hours on Park Street, picking up bargain jeans and beautiful birthday presents. Sunday was a bit special.
We started by heading to Clark's Village in Street, which is not an outlet store, but an outlet village. And it doesn't just sell shoes. Every shop had about 70% off, from Calvin Klein to Billabong, and I walked away with a pair of jeans from the United Colors of Benetton which only set me back £7!
We didn't stay long though, as the sun was shining, air bracing and sky blue. It felt like the first time I'd seen the blue sky for months, so as we were near Glastonbury, we headed up the Tor. It was a very easy climb, but this didn't stop the views from being quite spectacular. Green as far as the eye could see. It was windy and cold, so with dreams of spending the rest of Sunday in a sheltered sunny beer garden, we did the right thing and went to visit relatives in South Bristol.
There's a lot to be said for staying in and watching films at the weekend. Aside from the nightmares I got after watching 'Splice', I managed to catch up with lots of people, buy two new pairs of jeans for only £22, plan weekends away, cut hair, breathe fresh air and gain brownie points... All in a weekend.

Sensory Somerset

I don't know where I went last weekend, but I loved it so much I haven't stopped thinking about it since. Luckily for Matt and I, his parents have a lovely house in the middle of nowhere (nowhere is not really a good name for Somerset), and they are away for weeks. We pounced on the opportunity to while away a weekend in the countryside, and it was wonderful.
We arrived on Friday night, and I fell asleep on the sofa, waking up in complete disorientation as I found myself in pitch black and near silence. Bristol never gets like that. I was a bit scared. But I soon got used to blissful solitude, emerging from bed at 1pm on Saturday, as we had no clock in the room and there were no city noises to rouse us. We scrambled up the hill behind the house, where we were exposed to breathtaking winds. A walk incorporating smell, touch, sight and sound reminded me that I am actually alive, not just existing to pay the bills. I took delight in the many smells of woodland, gorse and leaves, the softness of moss and the scratchiness of bushes on my legs, the wind whipping around my face and the expanse of space which stretches for miles. It's difficult to describe, but having sea, trees and wildlife around you feels like sustenance for the soul after weeks cycling to work up busy roads from St Paul's to Stoke Bishop.
We ate a huge salad for lunch (at 5pm) and had friends around to pass the evening playing board games and drinking cider. Sunday brought another walk, through woods of silver birch, oak and pine trees, and the cooking and eating of a veggie roast before the drive back to Bristol, to face life and its many emails.
I am now on a quest to escape the city. Luckily, my work experience is mostly in jobs which do not require me to be here for long. I hope I can make it work!

Arnos Vale cemetery

I love visiting cemeteries. I love the stories told there, of lives led and cherished. I love thinking of relatives in years gone by, coming to remember their loved ones and placing flowers on their graves. I love the old headstones, the inscriptions, the lettering, and the moss and lichen that grows on them. I love the idea that people return to the earth, becoming part of the life cycle again. And I love the fact that they are, or should be, peaceful, holy places.
Yesterday I convinced some friends to share in my pastime, as it was a bright and chilly day, and we had an afternoon to spare. So we headed to Arnos Vale.
Unfortunately, this huge, sprawling cemetery has been ruined in parts, by neglect and, this being Bristol, traffic noise. The graves go on for acres, but many have caved in or have been completely overtaken by flora. But we still saw hundreds of graves, finding our namesakes, searching for the oldest we could find (1865) and the newest (2010), the youngest (babies) and oldest people (97) laid to rest in them.
We got very muddy on our travels, and very very cold and hungry, so we didn't stay long, but we had time to pass the memorials for those killed in the Second World War, and take a minute to contemplate the loss of life and what it meant for the families involved.
Visiting cemeteries can offer an opportunity for reflection. This week, as we celebrated my boyfriend's birthday, I lost a great aunty and my friend gave birth to a baby girl. When I'm walking through a cemetery, I can't help but appreciate the people around me, and assess my priorities. Cemeteries can be fascinating, especially if, like me yesterday, you are sharing the company of a talkative, enthusiastic twelve-year-old.

Staple Plain

It was a beautiful sunny winter's day yesterday, and we headed to Somerset for a Sunday lunch. After food we went to Staple Plain for a walk, where until very recently Rhododendron Valley (or Vinny Coombe) was full of rhododendrons. Apparently they have been giving diseases to all the native trees, so gone are the flowers, and many many trees too, restoring the landscape to the way it would have originally looked years ago. The views up here are panoramic. You can see as far as Wales ahead, Glastonbury Tor to the east and Exmoor to the west. On the way home we stopped to see the deer at Alfoxton Drive, this time spotting around 60, but a little too far away to resemble anything other than brown blobs to me.
It was such a clear day. We were lucky. I thought that again as I cycled home from work today in the hailstones and gale force winds.

Steart and around

I'm staying in Somerset to bridge the gap between Christmas and New Year, Cornwall and Bristol. We spent yesterday familiarising me with my surroundings, starting with a trip to Stogursey Castle. It's possibly one of the coolest addresses in the UK, as an old castle wall and huge moat survive, with the addition of a cute cottage nestled within the remains.
Then we went to Steart, which is one of those long Somerset kind of coastal parts, along the Bristol Channel, where grass meets mud and the birds just love it. We decided on an unconventional route down to the water's edge, through the reeds, and hung out by the coast for a while. However, this decision made getting back to the bird tower further inland a bit trickier. We had to cross a couple of barbed wire fences, battling through dense 8 foot reeds to reach our destination. As the sky was whitewashed and the land was ours to share only with the birds, I got a slight sense of horror film for a while. But we reached the bird tower with little difficulty, and enjoyed the view of 136 geese through the binoculars.
We ate lunch at Bridgwater Docks and headed back to the house for mulled wine via Alfoxton Park Drive, where we saw a couple of deer, rather then the hundreds I had hoped to see.
Back to Bristol the following day to see in the New Year with friends. Have a good one!

Godrevy

This is a busy time for celebrations for many people, and it feels like I've been celebrating for weeks. First there was the run-up to Christmas, then Christmas Eve, Christmas Day and Boxing Day, then the arrival of more family on 27th. The 28th December is my nephew Zac's birthday, so I felt that in preparation for more food, presents and party games, a coastal walk was in order.
It turns out the entire family thought this was a good idea, so we packed ourselves into a couple of cars and made for Godrevy.
We started off on Gwithian beach, jumping through puddles in new wellies, playing more Montol, and writing messages in the sand which could be viewed from the cliffs above. Then we took a short walk to Godrevy, the favourite hangout for a colony of seals.
The day before I'd walked along Long Rock in the rain, which was exhilarating, and this walk was its gentle opposite.
Refreshed, we made our way back to Penzance partyland, where the Pyrahs were awaiting.

Lescudjack Castle

25th December

Christmas Day, and amid the present unwrapping, eating, drinking and TV watching, we found time to visit Lescudjack Castle.
This was easily done, as an old hillfort sits behind our house at the highest point in Penzance, or rather, we sit upon it, as it dates from the Iron Age. As far as castles go, there is not much to see, but the view over the bay is pretty impressive. We used to walk our dog in this field, and I remember it full of bushes and rubbish, but it's been cleared recently, leaving plenty of space to play 'Montol'.
These days the field is not used for much apart from some pagan ritual near Christmas, which is where we got the idea for the game.
So we ran around for a while, jogging off our Christmas dinner and admiring the view on an ancient hillfort, just minutes from the house.