Monday, 17 February 2014

My mother said, I never should, Play with the Gypsies in the Wood...


I named this title from a nursery rhyme that I heard as a child and really loved, but nobody else seems to know it which is strange. To live in a world deprived from nursery rhymes...
It's no secret that I have an obsession with old fashioned gypsy living. From River Boat homes to Vardo's, being barefoot in mud and Game Stew. I know that living life as a traveler is not at all the same these days as the gay old world that we lived in, but I grew up fuelled on nursery rhymes, and stories about Romany Gypsies and their beautiful little communities out in the woods, playing music, dancing around bonfires, hunting for food and sharing their lives together as close knit families. I have no desire to live as a part of society and play the game every day that is the rat race. I have no desire to interest myself in the affairs of famous people or latest technology. I dream of living a self sufficient and resourceful life, away from the mess of modern day living, I dream to live as part of a tiny friendly community, living out under the sky and making my own clothes, wasting nothing, and wanting nothing but to just exist and enjoy every moment of existence.
It makes me sad to see how time has changed and travelling life has altered drastically. I realise I know little of their lives back then, and only have what information has been given to me by my modern day traveler friends and what I read in story books. Don't judge me on my dreams, sometimes dreams distort and alter reality to become the very reality that which we wish to perceive; my dream reality involves bonfires, fiddles and dirty feet.

I truly believe we are not designed to live in cities. Least of all me, cities are freak out zones full of things that don't make sense to me, like cold coffee, and ipads. 

I love this little swing gate that leads to Nancy's copse. There are some stepping stones semi submerged in water to hop over. The woods it leads to are supposedly haunted by the ghost of Nancy Cox, and other ghosts. Nancy Cox allegedly took her life a few hundred years back (So the story goes) and some of the villagers I have spoke to have encountered visions and apparitions of her corpse swinging from a tree.
Others say if you're walking through the meadows early in the morning or around twilight you can hear the chilling laughter of invisible children playing near the water wheel. I love ghost stories they give me chills. 

These lovely places are in the village of St. Keverne South Cornwall  where George my boyfriend grew up. 
The Caravan belongs to Roskillys and there used to be a few others, I had my beady eyes on them for a while but they were lived in until some time last year when most of them were moved for repairs! Luckily they left one for me to explore in! and oh so considerately left the door open too :D There are some truly magical places in South Cornwall, it's enchanting and full of mystery. 

The River Lures Dreamers


Wednesday, 5 February 2014

We Have Antlers

After felt what like an eternity, the sun came out.
I started to forget the feeling of the sun and learned to become quite contented in the rain.
I enjoyed gazing the silvery glinting tones of grey in the clouds, the austere ambiance and beauty in the gloom.
There was almost a glow, a half light. It was magical, and I was okay with that.
It reminded me of Scotland, and I was happy in Scotland. It reminded me of moors and hills and lochs and the colours of the stone in the castles.
So when I woke up to delicate winter sunlight shining through my window, a stranger, a forgotten friend... I felt a bizarre charge of energy. Perhaps the way that tree's feel. "solar powered humans".
When I took the bus to Bristol for an adventure to the Snuff mills with my friend Jegan, it wasn't with desperate relief to escape this town, but with a glowing determination. To adventure, do what I love most, and be under the great open sky. After exploring and playing in the Celtic Fogues last week with George's family in the rain at LandsEnd, I felt invincible. I no longer give a damn about the weather, and it certainly doesn'ae give a damn about me.

A secret little path on the river cliff 

Boys climb things. I would too if I wasn't so floor-bound.
I am gravitationally challenged. 

I wonder when was the last time this little swing was used


a haunted house 

looking for willow-the-whisps

These stiles make me really yearn for the coastal trecks to secret beaches, and hidden woodlands back home. Somerset is beautiful, but its just different somehow. It's almost as though it lacks magic and it's so well trodden. We keep our eyes peeled for signs of fairies, but like city foxes, they're probably scraggly little vagabonds. Not real country fairies, not wild ones.

Reaching up to Open Sky 

Yellow is my most favourite colour... That's why Autumn and Summer are my favourite seasons, the seasons of sunflowers :) I used to have a rule where I used to have to wear at least something yellow every single day to make me smile. I ended up wearing daisies in my hair all the time but I've stopped doing that now... maybe it's time to start it up again or am I too old for childish things like that?
never. ever. ever


baha :P I'm really not good at posing for photo's, I much prefer taking them but I like pulling stupid faces so its okay :) 

Sassy Stag makes a come back

Whale self shot... because I can't take much seriously :P

Friends are brilliant. and amazing. and always willing to adventure out even if its just for a fun day substituting rocky coves and wild moors with neatly trimmed somerset parklands. I used to be a solitary and indipendant only child kicking about in the mud by myself, but now I have a group of brothers and sisters who I've chosen and in return chosen me, and I hope we'll be a weird adopted family-pack thing and live in the wild forever more. :)
We are but Wolves 
(With Antlers)

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