Subterranean Homesick Blues

This beautiful picture sings to me. I have a great, nay, a whopping, raging love for Bears and their medicine, so here is Bear and Woman by Jackie Morris.

I'm feeling a bit better today than I did yesterday, thank goodness. I collapsed in a big wet heap in my husbands arms and ranted and cried myself silly while he cuddled me. Good man. He then went to the shop and bought me sticky toffee pudding, custard and my favourite ice cream. Ah, comfort food - it brings such, well, comfort. Felt much more like a hooman after that.



Today I was searching through some work by other bloggers, in particular Endicott Studio which will unfortunately be disappearing, along with its wonderful mythic art, from our viewing pleasure very soon, and found a clip of Kate Rusby singing in her wonderful folky way, 'Who will sing me lullabies' . Well, this got me to thinking about another of my favourite folk singer, Nigel Mazlyn Jones, whose vinyl has been long since extinct and whose music I've been desperately trying to track down for these past many years. Well, I typed in his name, half jokingly, truly not expecting to find anything and buggar me if I didn't find a whole raft of YouTube videos of him singing some of my favourite songs. I keep trying to figure out how to add the video for 'Sentinel' on the blog but its not working so far. So, if you are interested go to 'Whats on the Toob' and click on the vid that comes up Sentinel when you scroll over it and it will take you to the place. It's one of the most hauntingly beautiful songs I've ever heard. From this snippet on YouTube I then found his website and consequently have ordered myself a copy of the wonderful Ship to Shore album and eagerly await the remastered to CD version of the album Sentinel. I can't tell you how happy I am to get my hands on his music again after all this time. My tape of it is so stretched and warbly now it sounds like Pinky and Perky are doing cover versions.

Unfortunately, with the lovely must come the not so lovely. All his singing about cliffs and sentinels and ships to shore and his wonderful, wonderful song The Man and the Deer, sung from the point of view of the Hunter and with a response from the Stag, got me feeling completely homesick for Ye Olde Englande and in particular the South West where I lived for a good long while. Its Summer over there now and I know that there would be a lush green carpet of goodness waiting for me if I went over there now. I long to walk the ancient ruins of my homeland.



The beautiful stone circles of Cornwall. How dear to my heart are thee.

I yearn to sit on the cliffs and listen to the gulls and the crash of the cold, cruel sea. I long to visit again despite the fact that I went home only last December (cold Christmas - yummy!) and it was a disappointment due to illness, the stress of seeing everyone after 4 years in Australia and the frustration of dealing with family. In truth, I don't miss my family as much as I miss my country. It sounds harsh I know and its not to say that I don't miss them at all, I do and I love them very much but they are, like most family's, difficult and trying to get a word in edgeways? Forget it. My family know how to talk. Hoh yes. But listening is an art they have no time for. Sadly this means that we rarely get, or give, the support that would be most nourishing for us.

So now, I sit here listening to Nigel on the toob with a soul feeling all windswept and longing for the forests of the land of my birth - the monstrous Cypress - guardians of the dead, the Kingly Oak, the slender Willow - and feel all the sighs rolling over me like a cool breeze. I guess we always romanticise the places and people we leave behind but I know instinctively that though I live and love in Australia, I will never be truly 'home' until I am home - on English soil - up to my neck in irritating British people who don't know how to pick up litter.

Ah well.

I'll leave you with some beautiful images of beautiful Cornwall and will disappear into my living room with a cuppa and nice bowl of steaming hot sticky date pudding and custard to soothe my Midlands soul.


It's my scary Fogou! I have walked right to the back of this deep, darkness wading through the ancient freezing waters barefoot and I have snuggled in the darkest of its antechambers and immersed myself in the still dark womb of the mother.


I've done ritual work here in the Minack Theatre and I've seen wonderful productions at night. What a view at night. At any time of day really. So wild.


I've stayed in this cottage many, many times whilst administrating at workshops.

Shamlessly Procrastinating

Well, here I am again after a long-ish absence, a result of the simple process of living and mothering and working and learning my new skills as a radio presenter for the darling community radio station up here in the trees - 3MDR 97.1FM. I've only been 'on air' since February and I'm enjoying it immensely but it does take up rather a lot of my (non-existent) spare time. Ah well.

I'm back primarily because my lovely friend, DocWitch, has inspired me to once more put fingers to keyboard and empty my overstuffed soul onto cyber page.

Life is somewhat (more) complicated at the moment due to my mother's ill health and the prospect of having to find a sensible time space continuum to fly back home to the UK for at least 3 months if not 1-2 years. The inevitable crunch time is finally upon us and I find myself incapable (not for the first time) of making any decisions as they ALL involve discomfort to someone but most especially me. Like most daughters, spending more than 2 days in my mother's company sends me fetal and requires serious post maternal visit therapy. I love her with all my lumpy, ill-used heart and would do anything for her. But I'm not sure I'd do that. Move home that is. The thought of spending more than a millisecond in Telford again sends me bleating back to my duvet with a stiff drink gripped betwixt my claws. I spent so long trying to get the hell out of there that I am, naturally, a little reticent to go back to do a 3 month long stretch - I simply don't believe that my karma is that bad! Anyway, as flippantly as i sound, I am under huge amounts of stress to decide mine and my family's (not to mention my businesses) futures. To complicate things further, we are currently trying for our second baby and I need to fly after my 1st trimester as I am unwilling to risk another miscarriage. And, Oh GOD, do I even need to mention the godawful flight? Australia to England - what a dreadful prospect. Especially as we finally flew over there at Christmas and are only now recovering full use of our ears and minds (and there is some debate about mine).

As if all of this isn't enough, I am experiencing something of an existential crisis. The landscape of my spiritual journey is changing and is bringing with it the inevitable quesitons about who I really am, where I'm really going and why I'm in this handbasket.

My daughter has spent the last two friday nights in our local hospital emergency room for two (thankfully) different reasons. First trip was after she disappeared down the rabbit hole ala Alice in Wonderland and from which I had to pluck her ankles first. She was cut and bleeding and it was a bit surreal. i'm surprised I didn't panic my arse off but I was relatively cool, calm and collected. Hospital visit took 5 hours and resulted in, well nothing actually. She was fine. The second visit was due to a very high temperature and a bout of uncontrollable shaking which distressed my poor wee bairn, which in itself is enough to have me heading for the nearest medical facility. Lily is a fantastic ill person (if you catch my drift), she is never distressed by illness and the fact that she was so last Friday was enough to have me grabbing my coat. I did phone my GP first (at 6pm), twice actually, and with increasing urgency. He finally got back to me at 11.40pm. He'd been to the Opera! It's not that I mind my poor doctor having a social life, it's that there is no system in place for passing the message on to another on call doctor when the call is obviously urgent but getting no response from doctor number one! Anyhoo, all was well in the end - we ended up home after a 4 hour wait. Here's hoping this Friday consists of a large bar of chocolate and an episode or 5 of Scrubs.

Interesting tidbit of information: Yesterday my astrological calendar said the following: Scorpio Moon plus a flowing connection between Venus and Jupiter in Earth signs, tempts us to fully indulge in sensual and sexual delights. Well, without getting too personal, me and my man ended up enjoying some of those sensual and sexual delights (together) last night as we found ourselves strangely pulled towards intimacy and loving. Strangely because anyone with children will know how loving gets put on a back burner when you are sleep deprived and about as sexy as week old washing. Earlier that day I had finally constructed my baby altar to welcome in the new soul and found myself being drawn to the royal blue and purples of Jupiter and when I finally cleansed and consecrated the space for the new baby, my CD was playing Gabriel by Lamb. This is significant to me as it is the song I walked up the aisle to and for one other reason which I will keep to myself. My hubble, for his part, found himself listening to the love dedications radio programme on the drive home and arrived all bursting with romance and love for his Kitty Wiff and daughter. That wonderful tiny enchantress Peru (the singing woman) provided a sensual musical background that was so magical and so perfect that it must have been the work of unseen hands. True synchronisity in action. So, here's hoping we will be welcoming the latest member of the AH clan in a mere 9 months time.

Best get myself off to bed now. All this writing is destracting me from the fact that I am, in fact, utterly exhausted. Still, it feels good to empty my busy head and I'll try and make this a regular visit from now on.

Namaste and may all your dreams be naughty ones...