Retrosoective: Busy Bee

The weather has turned and spring has begun to sprung. You can tell, everyone is cheerful and active. Sunday last I'm oblivious about, I cannot remember what happened, there was probably some recovering from the Crasken Farm event that would have taken into the mid afternoon. What did I do.......

It's been an action packed week, not with the endless encounters of randomness but constructive stuff - Scary.

Dominick and I had applied to be Penryn Town Councillors sometime before Christmas. The deadline had been December 12th. As a result of the snow on 2nd of Feburary the meeting had been called off. A week later a new date was set for Monday 16th. Strangely on both letters we were; that is the town council applicants, were invited for a cup of tea between 6.30 -7pm. Dom and I had both been confused by these times. Not because they were wrong but how could the Town Council possibly decide who was the right candidate with 5 mins allocated to each prospective. Weird. All the same Dom and I thought we'd give it a go. Though we were a bit predisposed to idea that a born and bred Ryner would get it. Dom being from Redruth had a far better chance than I a foreigner. I had cooked myself a light dinner, thinking that maybe the meeting would over run. Dom phoned at about ten past six. Was I ready? He turned up about 5 mins later. I decided at the last minute to get change. I may still have been in my pyjamas depending on the state of play. Dom was nervous, I was a bit edgy.

We were the first ones at the Town Hall, except for a lady making tea. The were tables set up with chairs, we were invited to take a seat, The way the hall was set up reminded me of a Beetle Drive  I had once attended as a Girl Guide. The layout was formulaic of any community space. Dom looked worried. I noticed that Dom had his fisherman's smock on inside out. I made the mistake of mentioning it to him. Nobody else would have noticed but it had agitated Dom. Just as everyone arrived he decided to take it off. All the other candidates were well turned out along with the Councillors. For a split second I felt self concious about deciding to where jeans. Then I chucked the thought out of my head, jeans is what I wear, it's what everybody I know wears, isn't much point pretending to be something your not. I don't necessarily agree that people should put on an effort to sit one the town council. It's there to represent real people; who wear jeans.

Cups of tea were offered and the hall began to fill up. The consensus of people were middle class, middle aged, middle of the middle. We were not going to find many surprises in the room. The first two councilors to speak to us were both men. Keen to know where we were at as people. What do you do? How old are you? How long have you lived here? Nothing challenging just small talk. The small talk continued the most engaging question being "What do you think you can bring to Penryn" the answer "Positive change and empowering younger people to get politically active". No specifics that was it. Had they asked me about Commercial Road or What Penryn needs they would have got different answers. There the problem lies in interview skills, leading questions all that kind of stuff. So with out the councilors having the skills required to find out about the people who apply,  how are they making well informed decision about who sits for the Town Council? Therefore who is sitting on the Town Council? Do you catch my drift? Mary May, the Mayor is very nice and I felt really quite at home with the female Councillors, all smaller women of the Celtic variety. They seemed like family.

Mary May then sharply announced amid the babbling talk that the Town Council meeting was about to commence and that all candidates were to leave and would receive the results in the post. Done, dusted. Some candidates were left bewildered. I waited for Dom as he ended his conversation with one of the Councillors. It was quite clear we both needed a drink. We invited the other candidates as well, only Charlie obliged. We went to Bar 20 the kind of place were aspiring politicians should be seen to drink. I don't think. Charley was very posh and had moved to Penryn from Flushing. His Penryn house kept on getting attacked by delinquent kids. Charlie is an interior designer and started out in acting. He had stayed in his parents holiday cottage in Flushing after they had decided to renovate. Incidently it's the pink cottage with the thatched roof and it's own slip. Dom was weirded out, I was diplomatic.

Drinks done I'd arranged to meet Joyce at the Chainlocker, we had a really good chat which has remained unfinished as we started speaking to tall Chris, who used to live on a boat at Islington Wharf. He now lives on Old Hill. I also got chatting to a friend of his ( who I can't remember the name of) who used to live on Kerrera. Kerrera is small Scottish island that borders or even marks the entrance the Oban Bay. He used to own some land there. I used to live in Oban so we had a lot to talk about. More than that we knew the same family at Lerags (where the 'Ring of Brightwater' was shot) and incidently where our friend Bill had blown his brains out with a shotgun, he was a farmer, he was depressed. Joyce had to head of because of work in the morning. Chris said he'd drive me home but first he was going to The Waterfront for folk night. There I met Matt Pontin and Jeremy who were with an old female friend of Matt's, who had studied the photography masters with him, here in Falmouth. They wanted to come out on the boat. Our scheduals didn't fit. Chris and I headed home after and downed a half pint of something, I ran out to meet Chris in his car on the quay. I was regretting the drink I had forgotten that I had to be at a return to work course for confidence building the next day in Truro arrrgggh.

I woke up surprisingly spritely, it was a nice day and found my self jontily heading for the shower on Jubilee Wharf. Then I saw Chris - Troubador Chris and Laura. It could have derailed my day completely but then I saw Alice, who was lovely about it. Made me a cup of decaf tea at Peapods and talked me out of destroying myself. I suppose you have to have the background information for this one. Then I toddled off for the course getting on the bus late but at least coping.

I turned up a half hour late. First question would you like to introduce yourself "Kimberley" and who is your hero "Nina Simone"; easy. The course was better than I thought it would be and the people were pretty decent. Except for this one woman that simply did not know how to be quiet and that's me talking. Her main objective was to learn to listen. She actually gave me a headache. I met a really nice people, Lesley being one and Danelle being the other. I'm hoping that Danelle and I are going to be able to work together on my Industrial Studios project (working title). The next day was similar but I have to say that A4E do deliver a great service and even make sure that you are fed. I felt I was much further along the road to recovery than I thought I was.

Tuesday evening I attended a meeting that was not well publicised about a possible Cornish 'Manefesta', which is kinda like a big moving biennale, that's primary aim was to help reconnect Eastern and Western Europe culturally after the fall of the Berlin Wall. Well that's what I managed to gather anyway. The meeting was disperate with the usual suspect arts crowd attending. As well as a new set of yearly hopefuls from some BA and Masters courses up at the UCF. Nobody really figured out what the panel of about 10 people at the front wanted the attending audience to contribute. Probably just to steal ideas or use the event as evidence of support for 'Manefesta' coming to Cornwall. I don't think that I have ever walked out of the Wooodlane Lecture Theatre with out being followed by a haze of confusion, this event was no different. Remember people it's not you, it's them. I don't think that I could give this event 'Manefesta' my support because it's again a bid by the usual suspects for a C.V. building project. There is no desire for genuine community involvement or positive change within Cornwall. These people are driven by their needs not, by the idea of meeting everybody else's. These few are  meant to do well, I think. Belle from Crasken was there, so was Ruth from Collapse. They were both confused too. I considered going to the terrible Woodlane Campus bar for a drink to try and get some understanding or coherency. Then I remembered I probably wouldn't get any. Belle was desperate for something to eat, so was I, we went to Harbour Lights. Then the front. Belle was meeting people from her course, who'd all agreed to go out for a drink, as always not even half the course turned up. I on the other hand bumped into Matt again who was out with John and the same chick from the night before. I decided to tag along with them to the Balti House and have a beer. Jeremy turned up. The poppadoms were good, we got some free dessert, Baileys and chocolate mints. John drove me home, I was tired, I thought there was something wrong with me but I was just tired. It was nice to be driven home, John's nice.

Wednesday evening was a bit hectic, I had tried to get hold of Mole and failed. We had agreed to organise a viewing of a 'Occupation 101' and teach in about the Palestine/Israeli conflict. I didn't know who was bringing the DVD I hadn't got anything from the Red Cross. I felt like I'd failed. I had to get some chips or I was going to faint. Dave was in Bar 20 so I ducked in there to eat them. Hmmm Penrythm had found themselves in the West Briton having been awarded a £4000 grant to by new equipment. Dave pointed out Laura. I told David a story involving a transvestite. Dave was shocked. Having finished my chips I headed back down hill to Peapods, loads of people had already turned up and there was a group with a video camera. I assumed Mole had recruited them.


Wednesday evening was a bit of a mad rush.......that turned into chaos, I blame the anarchists and ended up making and amazing friend called Cait, a significant post a significant week, left unpublished for nearly ten years.

Friday 13th & St Valentines Day

Now there's a match made in heaven. Just think you get all your bad luck out of the way one day, in the hope that the next day, you'll be lucky enough to pull. Realistic? I think not.

Friday 13th. Yes I've managed to add another a Friday 13th story to my repertoire. I've only got one other and that was to do with the occurance of 13p change for a train that left 13 minutes past the hour, from platform 13. I was seventeen at the time it was enough to give me a bit of the heebie jeebies. Not as much as my mate though.

Friday had been uneventful, I'd barely left the boat, Kathy came round for a cup of tea and then so did Michael. Living on the boat gives the term fair-weather friend a whole new meaning. So for example it was sunny on Friday which equals visitors. No sun equals no visitors. Anyway I'd hidden away on the boat, I'd been considering going out earlier to meet up with Brendan, Pete and Joyce but never quite made it. Until finally at about 11 o'clock I thought oooh I might just make it in for last orders. Made the appropriate phone call to Brendan, they were still in the pub got up and out in 5 and headed for the corner. Now having been given the tip off by The Great Queen Melwyn  over the last few weeks I've been following her lead with the hitchhiking from Penryn to Falmouth. At £3.60 return for a two mile trip on the bus who's going to argue with me? So there I was on the corner of Exchequer Quay waiting on a quiet late night road for a ride into Falmouth. Nothing was doing for quite sometime until this guy pulled up after having caught my eye on the other side of the road outside Duchy Kitchens in a black Honda. There was no other traffic and I thought. This looks really dodgy but not to be a girl put off by such things I cautiously approached the car crossing the road, half expecting him to accelerate off as soon as I got near enough to open the door. I went to the drivers side first as he rolled down the window. I leant in and explained to him I was going in to Falmouth. I thought he might just be the helpful sort not wanting to see a girl stranded and might offer to take me there, as it wasn't that far. He then explained that he was going to pick something up in Ponsanooth and I might as well come with him rather than wait for him to get out there and turn round and pick me up on the way back. I looked up and down Commercial Road, still no traffic. Ponsanooth was only four miles I thought no big detour and maybe it could be a bit of an adventure. It was Friday 13th after all. If you can't get these kind of kicks any other night of the year? I moved round the back of the car to get in the passenger seat. The car was really low on the ground despite being mounted on the kerb. The seats were really low and set back in the car as well. The foot well was filled with junk. You know car junk? All that useless shit that can end up taking over your glove compartment and if you don't sort it out explodes into the rest of the car. God I'm glad I don't have a car anymore. So I had to shuffle my feet around in the junk until I felt comfortable.

The minute i was in and the door was shut, the guy hit the accelerator full force, the noise and the vibration of the engine filling the space and my brain with the intimidation intended. All of sudden I had arrived in somebody elses world and was on a road however short into the unknown. This is my high, my hook, my adrenaline driven addiction for true adventure. Placed directly into somebody else's control and power. It's a bit sick isn't it. Car drives like that, when your not listening to the person in the car next to you and the only focus is on the road is amazing. It's such a buzz to have all your focus on just one thing. You go form being inside a steel box on wheels onto a road and the road becomes like any other road in the world. You could be anywhere. The person driving the car is having competition with the road, faster better tighter except the road has the power to kill. That's what driving fast cars is all about. We made some small talk. As we made it up Treluswell Hill the guy overtook someone at the very spot I had written off my car nearly a year earlier. It was a dangerous place to overtake it was intended to be. As we went out towards Ponsanooth I realised the village was closer than I had thought and especially the way he drove. The excitement grew as he drove through Ponsanooth past what was intended to be our turning point, which was I had been expecting. This guy was not a straight customer. We got to the Stithians turning point before I asked where we were actually going. He said three more miles, I challenged him and said that he had said Ponsanooth. Three miles came and went and I wondered down what dark lane this adventure or misadventure, as it may turn out would end. His driving was erratic as he tried to hold a conversation while driving as fast as possible, two things not instantly compatible. We were on the straight road into Lanner now. The accelerator pedal now even further to the floor. Should I call someone? Dave Eddie knew people in Lanner. Would I be having a third encounter with the police in the space of two weeks? I pointedly pointed out that we were now in Lanner. The guy, who's name I still didn't know stated that we would be there in 30 seconds. I then inquired as to why he would say he was going to Ponsanooth, when we were actually going to Lanner? He said " your Scottish I didn't think you'd know where Lanner was". That was a fair comment. However give the fact I knew where Ponsanooth was maybe it should have been assumed I would know where Lanner was?

True to his word we arrived at the intended spot within 30 seconds. He had pulled into a lane at the top of the hill beside a house with a newly constructed wooden fence. It could have been a newly constructed house. He got out the car. I didn't look to see where he was going. I assumed he was going into the house. Next to us on the left was a plot of scrubland. It was then looking out over the scrubland that disappeared into the black of Cornish farmland that I say him in the side mirror. He had a torch with a bluish light and was scrabbiling around in the grass on the corner of the plot, looking for something at the bottom of a wooden sign. I didn't think the sign held any clues as to what he was looking for. I didn't read it. I decided not to watch I don't know if he found what he was looking for. He was back in the car within minutes. He started up the engine and we drove up the lane in front of us. I didn't say anything. The lane came to a T junction and we turned left down the lane that had met us back to what I was hoping to be the main road back to Falmouth. It was. If he was going to kill me that would have been his opportunity. Back on the main road Frankie Goes to Hollywood and Relax came across the car speakers I asked him to turn it up. No bolts barred he was off. I could feel the G's upon my face and neck. I looked at the speedometer. We had hit 100. As drove the winding road back to civilisation mainly somewhere up in the 6o's he barely crossed the central white lines. All the time music blaring out. I was exhilarated. I brought back memories of New Zealand. It made me feel like I could be anywhere.

Now back in Penryn, to what I thought relative safety, another twist. Instead of following the road round towards Ponsharden, he turned right and then left towards the reservoir. Maybe I hadn't got away with it, or maybe he was just looking for the expression on my face. I lost my casual tone. "Where are we going?" "Falmouth" "This way?" "It's quicker". Again accelerating up the hill, he took a sharp left, simultaneously throwing something small brown and wrapped in clingfilm out the window on to the grass verge. I had got my bearings and we were now heading back into town. I had almost definitely missed last orders by now. Though I knew that no matter what happened next this was certainly to be the highlight of the evening. As we came down Kimberley Park Road, he pointed too pointed out that I would have missed the pub. I lied and said my fiends were waiting for me. They had bought me a drink. He asked if I might like to go to Helston for a drink. I said I couldn't as I had work in the morning (which was a half truth) as I did have an appointment. As we drove into town his driving slowed, there were loads of people out he took me to The Grapes, everyone was leaving. I knew Brendan wouldn't be there. I got out of the car and walked into the pub, no one was there except some stragglers. Looked like it had been a good night. On leaving the pub I hesitated, I suddenly thought, what if he's outside waiting? What if he's watching? Then I remember that Church Street was one way and there had been a road block outside. He wouldn't be able to get back down the street without having to go all the way round the one way system. He didn't seem like the kind of guy who would leave his car unless absolutely necessary.

I phoned Brendan, he was back home at the flat. I walked there and on my later departure I decided to get a taxi home. The taxi driver was nice. I told him what happened. I think it was the most interesting thing he'd heard all night...........

Valentines, I think that this was the first Valentines in my history that I didn't wake up with a feeling of dread. What causes it? I don't know? Or maybe I do know. It's the reason everyone hates Valentines but won't admit it. The fear of being unloved. Well I'm unloved, though the guy in the bike shop did oil my bike for free, that's as good a Valentines gets as far as I'm concerned. So the dread was weakened not only by that but by having somewhere to go. I've been having a lot of early Saturdays of late. Yes training for Falmouth & Penryn Community Radio Station: The Source . I couldn't pull myself from bed, then I did have a shower and was as the say running late. I started to run up Penryn High Street. I got to the zebra crossing and saw Cheryl in her nice red car. She pulled over and asked if I needed a lift. She always asks that and for some reason I mainly refuse, I don't know why but not this morning. I practically leapt into the car. She picked up some money, we dropped off Taylor and I was early. Matt was there, so was Dave. Dave is my Scottish compadre, even though he's from Edinburgh. There was a a lot of banter in the end Dave and I made a 15min programme about being Scottish in Cornwall. We didn't keep a copy.

Dave gave me a lift back to the boat. The windmill nearest the end of the quay had been laid down on it's side for inspection, as it had not been working properly. It looked a lot bigger laid out on the horizontal. The propeller standing quite a bit higher than both Andrew and the windmill engineer. The quay had been cordoned off and the steps removed from Miss Peapods entrance. The building design made more sense now. I asked for permission to gain entrance. Andrew never actually answered as to whether I could but I assumed from his jovial answer that the cord was merely a health and safety proviso and therefore the de-stabilised windmill posed no real threat. I was going to into Miss Peapods for tea, it was packed. I decided to cook breakfast (poached eggs on toast) on the boat, which I then promptly catapulted onto the floor. The eggs burst but the meal on the whole was retrievable. It didn't even taste of diesel. I napped, took my bike, Prudence, to the bike shop, then napped some more, collected Prudence from the bike shop, agonised over sending a valentine to Chris, spoke to mother, napped some more, went to get chips, started to get ready to go out. Decided on Rosie and the Goldbugs and meet up with Kathy and Matt. Went to hitch couldn't get a hitch. That is surprising because I was wearing a very short raspberry coloured dress and brown knee high boots. Matt from The Source pulled over changed my mind completely and decided to go to Crasken Farm, with Alice, Belle (who I'd never met) and Matt. It was good it was a party. There was an outside fire. Beer was £2 a can. The floorboards bounced when everyone was dancing. We got home around 4.

the spell check is not working- pah

Nothing else happenend but I forgot......

The 'Integrity' was cut up on Monday and is now no more. The 'Integrity' was a 160 year old Drifter and the last of it's kind and is now sadly no more. It had been a staple in Penryn Harbour's boating landscape for quite some time. It sank last year as it had rotted all the way through. Everyone was pretty sad about it's departure. I t would have cost thousands and thousands to get sea worthy and a real labour of love to repair. As we know few have the time, energy and money for such a project. The activity on the quay attracted alot of attention, including quite a few forlorn older gentlemen. It really stank as they they torn the poor thing apart, ripping it out the mud with a bright orange digger. There was lots of talk and nostalgia and a bit of regret.

Dreamweaver another wreck, well a floating wreck that has sunk twice has now found a new owner. Who have been very busy over the last few days filling skips etc. They've also manged to get some paint on her. Via Wayne I'd heard that the plan is to get he boat done up and provide a place of care outside of hospital for cancer patients. Hmm to be honest I'm not convinced about this. The boating community seem to behind it and very supportive on the whole, particularly Wayne.

Today i collected the mail from the barge had a brief chat with Sandra. I've had a functional morning having already eaten breakfast. Now the washing up.......

What can I say?

I thas definitely been a dramatic week but we'll not bother to mention anything about that, lets just skim. Thoughts thoughts thoughts, lots of them about all sorts of things. Just been watching Terry Pratchet on the tv, presenting his degenerate condition of Altzimers. I wonder how far we go before we stop being human. I don't find it heart breaking, not because I don't sympathise or better empathise, but life quite frankly is a raw deal. I just find it hard to cope with the spinning whurly gig of dirty knickers in my brain. Offload, Offload, Offload get it all out even when it has no where to go. Depression's a bit like that, futile. Not that I'm depressed. Where does it all go this life thing. Where are all those memories stored and why ultimately are they all lost. Maybe earth will become the junk planet as we try to store and control all that we have to loose. We were children once? Lots of questions in this blog.

How do we choose to live our lives? Do we get to choose or are we already predisposed to our nature? Can we control our natures? My nature or the things that drive me seem to be polar opposites running parallel at any given time, a desire for obscurity to be unknown and yet driven by an undying urgency and uncontrollable passion. Passion for what men, love, objects, beauty, achievement, not necessarily success, social justice, truth and self. Self does not exist it is a construct. Life on the sick is an interesting one I have gone from being a girl that held down two jobs at any one time and planned moving three months in advance to not having very much to consider at all. Routine, I think about that alot. What is routine? How do people sustain routines for years? What are relationships? How do you develop new meaningful ones? How do you avoid the old ones that hurt you? and how do people keep searching for something greener? I've recently got involved with a boy, well a man actually and I don't know how to take it anymore. Or maybe the strategy just changed, you sit on the side lines for as long as possible before you decide to wade in. You're big enough and ugly enough to know that relationships don't have the power to change your life. They have the power to alter it's course but they don't change you. People don't change. The responsibility lies with the souls trapped within our bodies, that we are suppose to be able to control with our brain.

So the questions are still the same after all these years, we're heading for a box, some of us are very fortunate to know where that box will be. Maybe that would remove some anxiety for me. So as I was saying relationships, relationships I find it interesting that both my ex-boyfriend and have returned to our wounds. Why is that. I also know that our relationship and it's emphasis in my life is an illusion. All the people that I spent the craziest moments with separate to him are still with me. Well that's what facebook tells me. Whether those memories can cross reference we don't know and I very much doubt. There are few people I can collectively talk over old times with. I don't think I'm going to phone up old school friends to mull over nights out a 'Rico's', they never were that great or even good. I didn't know what a good night out was until my twenties. My best nights out and days in general are those spent wondering out into the unknown, unmapped territory, though even that can get boring at times.

So how do the masses do it? How do they go to an arbitrary job day after day, year after year. What is you fulfillment? Do screeensavers of Caribbean beaches really offer us and outpost to the sublime? What probably is true is that my real life as oppose to these thoughts whirring round the inside my head are far more readable, have far more meaning.

Falmouth & Penryn Community Radio Station 'The Source', has been having quite a dramatic impact on the conversations of the population or just the people I know. It's been headed off mainly as far as I can tell by Matthew Rodgers and Russell Clark. It's been in the pipeline for a couple of years. I'd spent some time talking to Russell about incorporating into concept to do with the whole Falmouth Wharves thing; that I still have to do some work on, including writing a letter to Prince Charles la de da. I've signed up, I'd like to do a programme regarding local politics. I think it will probably ask far to many practical questions for it ever ot be a success. What is good about it, is that it adopts the name 'toche' from the Fanzine I had been interested in setting up. However, as a radio show it has far more scope, that is in terms of satisfying my own passions. When discussing my ideas I feel like some weird kind of creature that crawled out of the penryn mud actually having an interest in politics. Got some work to do, that has to meet some kind of deadline. Will I manage it? Already pretty much figured out what I should be able to do for the first show, and who will be on board. I'm off to my first training session on Saturday. I already have serious concerns about 'the source' achieving it's brief, as a community radio station already appearing to be a little to over run with students for my liking but that will prove itself in time.

Next on the list the Palestiina info night hasn't taken much to sort out. Mole has taken responsibility for publishing it. Hopefully we should get quite a few turning up and it will develop on it's own from there.

What else has happened? I need to create a filler blog for all the stuff I miss when I'm ill. I've sorted out the boat a bit even managed to do the washing up and put away the laundry. Still got loads of stuff to consider, like the whole routine business. At least I've done my blog today. Other than that got to sort out some writing for all my books, maybe get rid of and sort out all those spiral bound notebooks. Still need to write and achievement list for 2009.How scary is that, that I actually like to thin that way. Never mind actually sorting out the endless to do list that is so comprehensive that I haven't even got to the bottom of it yet. Then there's the money issue and even worse the work prospect. Isn't that weird. As I say offload, offload, offload. In some ways I'm really quite glad that I don't have any real close friends, this might be almost impossible to do with a witness. And boyfriends well - pah.

Got to take Ella to the park tomorrow........ got buy a spiral bound notebook tomorrow........