Moonlit – #writephoto

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Composed in response to Sue Vincent’s #writephoto post.

The sky had turned a velvety indigo, speckled with starlight. The full moon’s white rays danced on the surface of the lake. Its beam like an arrow, pointed to where the woman stood. She had discarded her shoes and stood barefoot on the stony shore. Listening to the trance-like sound of the water as it touched the rocks, she edged slowly towards their icy grip. ‘You shouldn’t be here.’ She smiled coyly, turning towards the silhouetted shape of a man coming towards her. His footsteps crunched as he drew alongside her. She trembled excitedly as she felt his arms encircle her waist, the touch of his cold lips on hers. She pulled away shyly.

‘Neither should you.’ She heard him laugh. ‘Ed, what would your husband say, if he knew you were here with me?’ She chuckled. ‘With a straight woman too!’

‘What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.’ She started walking, gingerly at first deeper into the water. Sharp stones cut into her feet. The fabric of her long dress grew heavy.

‘Why did you come?’ She heard him sigh. ‘And don’t give me that ‘I’m confused’ line. You’re 50! You should know who you are by now!’ Ed looked shocked.

‘Lisa,’ he paused, thinking of the right words to say. ‘You know there’s always been something about you.’ Lisa stood knee deep in water. She could see Ed’s features blanched by the moonlight. He looked ethereal. She shivered. ‘It’s always been about you. 20 years ago, you were all I could see and now…’ he broke off.

‘And now?’

‘I don’t know what’s happening between us?’

‘Me neither,’ Lisa sighed. ‘Though it feels different somehow.’

‘Yes, less possessive.’

‘Have you told Lee about me?’ Lisa noticed Ed’s stance, uncomfortable, with his hands in his pockets.

‘No, what could I say?’

‘The truth,’ she scoffed.

‘He knows there’s been women in the past.’

‘And he’s fine with that?’ Ed nodded.

‘I’ve just not told him that there was one that left her mark on me.’

‘Literally,’ Lisa thought, picturing the scar Ed bore on his chest, where she had sliced him with a kitchen knife after one of their many heated arguments.

‘What are you doing?’ Ed asked, exasperated, as Lisa walked waist high into the lake.

‘Standing in stone cold water,’ she shivered.

‘You’re mad!’

‘I’d rather be mad than dead inside.’ She turned to face Ed, her dress soaking up more of the insidious cold, dragging her downwards. ‘It’s like the moon has nothing to be sad about… her blacks crackle and drag,’ she quoted Sylvia Plath.

‘You’re more sloshing around, than crackling.’ Ed grinned.

‘Join me?’ Lisa laughed nervously, before her scream pierced the night sharply. She’d felt her feet stumble, slip on mossy stones, before her whole body succumbed to the water. She exhaled loudly, raising above the surface, giggling fitfully, thankfully to still be alive. Concentric waves rippled all around her. A man swore angrily as he stormed away from the promontory with a camera and tripod under his arm. Lisa managed to find her feet and stood dripping.

‘You ok?’ Ed called.

‘Yes,’ Lisa smiled. ‘Looks like I’ve ruined his photographs.’

‘Ignore him!’

‘Seems I have a knack for ruining things for people.’

‘Don’t believe that!’ Ed sensed Lisa’s jovial mood was turning.

‘Perhaps it would be better if I wasn’t here at all.’ Lisa looked towards the vast darkness of the lake. Peaks of night covered hills glowed orange with street lights from the nearby town.

‘Never think that!’ Ed gazed at Lisa’s white skin glowing in the moonlit. Her dark hair tumbling over her pale naked shoulders. ‘You look like a nereid.’

‘Come?’ Lisa beckoned, watching as Ed reluctantly peeled the shirt off his back, unbuckled the belt from his jeans.

‘I can’t believe I’m doing this?’

‘You can do it!’ Lisa felt herself slipping further into the icy water, until her whole body was submerged. Her rapid breathing was echoed by Ed’s, who’d waded bravely into the lake towards her.

‘Oh f**k, oh f**k!’ He cried as Lisa held her arms out. ‘Why do this?’

‘I just want to feel alive!’

‘There’s better ways to feel alive!’ Ed bounded through the water, droplets glittering like diamonds in the moonlight, flew all around. The fabric of Lisa’s dress wrapped itself around her legs, threatening to pull her down.

‘I’ve got you!’ Ed called, reaching for Lisa’s body, holding her firm. Face to face they breathed each others breath.

‘No one must know about us.’

‘Like I’m going to publicise it,’ Ed mocked.

‘I mean it.’ Lisa implored, her consciousness pricked. ‘Paul must never know. It would break him.’

‘We both have something to lose.’ Lisa closed her eyes and let Ed kiss her. It was an impassioned caress filled with years of want.

‘I still love Paul, but he will never understand what we feel for each other,’ she murmured. ‘I love you so much.’ Lisa ran her cold, wet fingers through Ed’s hair, shivered as he muzzled her neck.

‘I love you.’ She quivered in his arms.

‘How can we make this work? We both have very different lives?’

‘I don’t know.’ Ed looked towards the Great Bear and the north star, as a sailor would, looking for direction. ‘We can’t keep using unplanned conferences and meetings as an excuse or they’ll grow suspicious.’

‘Perhaps we should cut our losses, say our goodbyes.’

‘That’s not what I want, nor I believe do you.’

‘But someone’s bound to get hurt.’ Ed held Lisa close, afraid that if he let go, she would slip from his sight. As moonlight bathed their heads, a shooting star carved its way across the sparkling tapestry of the night sky.

© Christine Lucas 2016.


Lines taken from Sylvia Plath’s – Edge.

The woman is perfected.
Her dead
Body wears the smile of accomplishment,
The illusion of a Greek necessity
Flows in the scrolls of her toga,
Her bare
Feet seem to be saying:
We have come so far, it is over.
Each dead child coiled, a white serpent,
One at each little
Pitcher of milk, now empty.
She has folded
Them back into her body as petals
Of a rose close when the garden
Stiffens and odors bleed
From the sweet, deep throats of the night flower.
The moon has nothing to be sad about,
Staring from her hood of bone.
She is used to this sort of thing.
Her blacks crackle and drag.
Sylvia Plath, “Edge” from Collected Poems. Copyright © 1960, 1965, 1971, 1981 by the Estate of Sylvia Plath. Editorial matter copyright © 1981 by Ted Hughes.
Source: Collected Poems (HarperCollins Publishers Inc, 1992)
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30 Days Wild 2016 – Finale

o0OhgWNNI’m worried my 2016 30 Days Wild, will finish in a whimper. Last year, the end of June saw a heatwave hit the country and I sat out in the yarden until dusk, smelling the warm air and hearing the chatter of swallows. This year I am swaddled in layers of clothing and the sky has grown grey again with rain filled clouds.

But that hasn’t stopped me looking to add a bit more wildness to my life.

Day 29: Wednesday

Snapshot 4 (29-06-2016 14-52)I’ve been meaning to dance in the rain for some time now. So with rain pouring down in the morning, I set up my camera and filmed me doing a little jig. I even brought Artie out to join in! If anyone looked out of their window into our yarden, then they would have thought I’d totally lost it!

I also turned for last minute inspiration to the 30 Days Wild app, and one of the ‘101 random acts of wildness’ was, accessorise with flowers. So I clipped a passion flower to my hair.

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Day 30: Thursday

I was given a lovely guided tour of the alleyway behind my house, by my mum. It seems the council has left the ‘weeds’ to grow wild! I took some pictures in the hope of identifying them. Here’s what I found.

The fat cakes I made for the visiting birds, lasted a day! Below is a clip of the starlings enjoying them!

Another day off from work for David draws near. So I am busy planning the day for him :p (hee hee..)

I am thinking of visiting the Lake District again. There are three walks and swims I can do.

  1. Loughrigg fell – visit Grasmere, the caves at Rydal and after a climb, take a dip in Loughrigg tarn.
  2. Easedale tarn – from Grasmere, a gentle walk through countryside towards the glacial corrie.
  3. Derwentwater – walk towards Walla and Falcon crag, views over the lake before taking a dip.

Which walk/swim would you take?

Summary:

The weather this year has been poor (in relation to last years 30 Days Wild). June 2016 started hopeful with long days of hot sunshine, however mid way the weather turned decidedly British. I think this has had a detrimental affect on the number of  bees visiting the yarden and also the amount of baby birds seen this season.

Let’s hope that the weather picks up in July/August!

Though 30 Days Wild is a more focused period of time, nature will always feature heavily in my life and my blog. I find nature very therapeutic! This year, my interest in moths has been piqued. I will definitely try the light trap again. I just hope for some calmer, warmer weather so I can sit out during the night and hopefully capture the night time visitors to the yarden.

I have loved reading other 30 Days Wild blogs and following what wild activities they got up to this June. I want to say a big ‘thank you’ to everyone who has enriched my knowledge by sharing theirs.

Finally, wherever you are, I hope you have a wonderful summer! Maybe I’ll see you next 30 Days Wild?! Or you can continue to follow me as I drag David around the lakes of the UK!

Christine x

Scrambling and Swimming

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For weeks I have wanted to return to Derwentwater in the Lake District. This time to walk the path towards Catbells, overlooking the lake and then to picnic at the lakeshore. Early on Sunday, David and I headed back up the M6 to Cumbria, hoping to do just that!

The two hour drive ran without hiccup. Unlike the last time we attempted to go to the Lakes. That time they shut the M6 due to a fuel spillage and had to re-tarmac the carriageway. Thankfully not this time!

There is a limited amount of free parking by the signed Catbells path. However we passed a field that had been opened up for visitors to the area at £3 per car, for the day. I thought that was reasonable. Saying that, we managed to get a spot in the free car park!  There is also a bus that passes through on its way to Buttermere or you could walk from Keswick. There are many possibilities.

For around 1.5 hours we followed the path towards Catbells summit. The views from the path were spectacular. I wanted to do the walk just to see them! The sun shone warmly down, while fluffy clouds scudded past. There was one part of the path where we had to crawl on hands and knees to climb over a rocky spot. I don’t like climbing. I’m even worse at it than walking! There was a second more treacherous section just before the summit which curtailed any further attempt from me! Though young children and dogs happily leapt over the rock towards the top!

We headed back along a safer route towards the car to pick up supplies for our picnic by the lake.


Can I let you into a bit of a secret? I had an ulterior motive for heading back towards Derwentwater. It all started in February when David and I took a walk around Llyn Idwal in Snowdonia. I stood on the shingle beach, looking at the clear fresh water and imagined what it would be like on a warm, summers day. Of sunbathing and paddling in the lake.

The seed had been planted.

A week later saw David and I, up at the crack of dawn to visit Haweswater and Derwentwater, in the Lake District for the first time. I fell in love with Derwentwater and I wondered what it would be like to put my toe in its waters?

Later, after watching hours of YouTube videos and researching swimming in lakes/rivers in the UK, I was hooked! David thought I was mad! A week ago I purchased a swimsuit, neoprene shoes and goggles. I was all set to go swimming, but where? Though the lake can be busy with boat traffic and the shore popular with dog walkers, I chose Derwentwater to be my first!

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I was a little trepid to begin with. I worried about the temperature of the waters and wondered if I should postpone for a warmer day. However I wanted to attempt it. I had dreamed about it for weeks! I had worn my swimsuit under my clothes on the walk, so I had no real excuse not to try. The day had been pretty amazing up till then. Embarking on my first ‘wild’ swim would be the cherry on the cake (figuratively speaking)!

I didn’t enter the water gracefully. I slipped on a stone and plummeted onto my backside! The air was laced with my nervous giggling! I hadn’t been in water since I was a teenager, (a long, long time ago). I attempted the breaststroke and found that my legs and arms wouldn’t coordinate! I’d forgotten how to swim! However I gained in confidence. My long term memory kicked in and I remembered the technique. I managed to swim backwards and forwards with mayflies flying off the surface of the lake and wonderful views all around. David, who was happily dry onshore, watched on taking photographs.

The lake water was surprisingly mild for a cool day. I found it strange that there were eddies of warmer water here and there. I didn’t stray too far from the shore, my upper body isn’t that strong. I didn’t want the day to end in disaster, not on my first time!

I climbed out after 10 minutes and got dressed. I sat snuggling with David on the lakeshore, shakily cradling a hot cup of coffee. I felt buoyed by the occasion! Buttermere next!

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We ended the day with a little woodland stroll, where we heard the calls of a cuckoo, saw a carpet of bluebells and watched sheep and their lambs get fed. The whole day was wonderful. I went home thoroughly tired but energised. I am eager to go on my next walk/swim.

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Have you been swimming in a lake or river? Have any suggestions on where best to swim or of beautiful scenic walks to take?

Thanks for dropping by,

Christine x

Gaslight by Patrick Hamilton

I discovered in the course of doing some light research into this play, that its title gave rise to the description of a psychological phenomena, gaslighting. Gaslighting is outlined as the systematic manipulation of one person by another. This form of mental assault distorts the victims perception of reality. It is a form of abuse that over time can lead to mental health issues and even suicide.

This short review is based on a viewing of the penultimate performance, the matinee on Saturday 7th November 2015.

Royal and Derngate Theatre entrance

Royal and Derngate Theatre entrance

The Royal and Derngate theatre is a strange mixture, the old juxtaposed with the new. The complex not only features two theatres but also a cinema and spaces for more family orientated workshops.

The Royal is a 130 year old Victorian theatre that can accommodate up to 400+ guests. When you walk into the auditorium you notice the close intimacy of this theatre. The stalls open out in a fan before the stage while the upper galleries circle overhead. The first thing that catches your eye is the elaborately painted safety curtain, Sipario Dipinto as it’s also called. Painted by local artist Henry Bird, it depicts cherubim alongside people connected with the theatre, most notably Errol Flynn. Currently the Royal are running a restoration appeal to raise £30,000 to complete the preservation of this beautiful part of the theatre.

Safety Curtain at the Royal Derngate Theatre

Safety Curtain at the Royal Derngate Theatre

This Made in Northampton production of the 1938 play Gaslight by British writer Patrick Hamilton, was directed by Lucy Bailey with a homely set designed by William Dudley. The performance occurs entirely in a Victorian living room, which in this production made use of a transparent backdrop that was used to good effect. The only thing that didn’t seem to work as good as intended was the use of projections. They did little to enhance the plot and seemed to be a little O.T.T. in their execution. The lighting by Chris Davey however added to the atmosphere of the play. There was a warm glow from the fire and the gaslights as part of the set became almost another character. The light was used effectively to show the shifting of Bella’s psychological state. This medium, used in conjunction with Nell Catchpole’s minimalist soundtrack only added to the tension on stage.

gaslight cast

There was no fault to be found in the casting. Most notable were familiar names, Jonathan Firth and Tara Fitzgerald, both who have had successful television careers as well as on stage. Fitzgerald played the persecuted wife who questioned her own sanity. She looked tortured and tiptoed around the aggressive husband (Firth) who flew into uncontrollable rages. He played the part like Janus, one face was jovial and all toothy smiles and the second showed a more sinister, domineering side. Firth’s body language on stage was that of arms continuously folded as he struggled to contain his anger. Somehow it made the viewer question who the ‘real’ mad character was?

Photo by Donald Cooper

Photo by Donald Cooper

A welcome relief from the angst portrayed by the Victorian couple, Firth and Fitzgerald was Paul Hunter’s Rough. He portrayed a retried detective who had a penchant for the odd dram of whisky or three. His comedy was much needed in a play with such a dark plot. Without his presence the audience would have been lost in Fitzgerald’s madness.

Though the play was billed as a thriller it had all the hallmarks of a detective drama too. It was a thoroughly entertaining way to spend a Saturday afternoon.

© Christine Lucas 2015