37. Spiders

Spiders! It's that time of year again when the house spiders start coming in. We've had four in a week, and I've been on removal duties, glass and cardboard at the ready.

The last spider I removed was...active. I felt something crawl on my arm and, girl-like, I ran around the living room until I was sure it wasn't on me. Don't get me wrong: I'm not scared of spiders...except when they crawl on me. That, I don't like. Anyway, after I calmed down, I found the fella running around on the floor. After a trial - it was one of those really fast ones - I caught it. I heard it go "chink" against the glass as it fought against its imprisonment. It wasn't a happy spider. As I carried it outside, it reared up and I could practically hear it hissing. I walked it up to the top of the road, just to make sure it didn't come back. I watched it creep off into the darkness.

31. Progress

The letter came in the post yesterday; we opened the door and saw it lying on the floor, face down. It was a crisp white envelope, that certain type used by professional companies. I knew it would be for me.

My hands trembled, just for a moment, as I picked it up and turned it over. The logo, printed with a franking machine, gave the game away. I put my bags down and took a deep breath while I carefully opened it to get to the letter inside. The first words leapt out "invited for interview". I couldn't take in the rest for a little while.

I have a job interview! Two days after sending in the application. It is a morale booster, and it's exciting. It's for a hugely important company in the county and I'm just gobsmacked.

It doesn't matter so much whether I get the job (well...it would be rather nice, and I would actually like it) but it's the fact that someone looked at my CV and said that they think I'd be capable. Working for a company for years where my morale took a huge hit, this is like a giant leap forward.

I have to admit, I feel tired today. It's like trying to walk upstream of a fast flowing river sometimes. I might only have a mile to go, but oh that current can drag, and then there are the hidden objects that come sailing down in the flow of water and you can't always avoid them. But it's good to look back at times, because then you realise how far you've already gone. Today, though, I wouldn't mind a little island to rest on, maybe have a picnic or even just a bar of chocolate, before continuing on the hard slog upwards.

30. I'm writing again

I don't know entirely where it has come from. It's like a spring that has found a hairline fracture; water drips out slowly at first but, with each passing drop, the fracture gets larger and more pours out. Only I don't have water pouring out of my mind (or, at least, I certainly hope not!), it's creativity. I haven't written this much in years.

Writing has always come in fits and starts for me but I always remember wanting to write. My earliest memories are of me writing in a corner in the playground. And, even during my "dry spells", I've had a longing to buy stationery...the perfect notebook, or a special pen;  an uncontrollable urge that has seen me stock up on paper that I won't use.

The writing is freely flowing now. I'm a bit out of practise - not having read many books for a long time, my vocabulary isn't quite on the ball. It's like a gate that has rusty hinges: they need to be greased before they'll work properly and stop squeaking. But I have a copy of "The Creative Writing Coursebook" to ease my way back in.

If I was in the financial position, I would want to restart my novel ("The Novel") and finish it this time, and not have to work for another person ever again. But technically I'm skint, and I don't enjoy the feeling of insecurity that is my current jobless state. It would have been more than ideal to have won the lottery last night, if you know what I mean. But I'm a huge believer that things happen the way they do for a reason. it's not my privilege to know what that is.

They often say (who "they" are, I don't know. It's like a collective word for random people...my grandmother used to say "they do say", a devonshire phrase) that writing is a therapy in itself. You can go deeper and deeper into your own psyche and discover more about yourself than you ever thought possible. I guess I never got that deep before, but something is changing.

Apparently, I'm going through a new phase. The astrologers call it The Saturn Return. A time when you decide what it is you want in life, and a time of huge upheaval and change. You can come out the other side and even you have changed.

I don't know if this new phase of writing will stay with me. I can always hope...and I can always keep plodding on. I read somewhere that if you try at something and fail then at least you've tried, but if you don't even make an attempt at it then that's the worst failure there is. So today, I'm happy and at peace because I am trying.

27. Getting away from it all

I'm a couple of days away from quitting my job...I woke up on Monday and decided I just didn't want to go in. There were other reasons too but I couldn't stand it anymore.

Instead, I drove to Bodmin moor and walked up to the Cheesewring. From the top, I took out my OS map, looked at the scenery and decided to walk to a point I'd never been to before.

I walked as fast as I could, pushing myself. And, getting to the top of Sharp Tor felt like an achievement, of sorts. I wasn't running from my problems, I was working out what to do about them. A personal journey.

I love the moors. Their ruggedness and beauty never change. 

As with my job...the hours are ticking by and my decision is made. The problem is, what next?

26. Three O'Clock

I admire people who can sit in an office all afternoon without eating. It's not like I haven't tried to ignore the three o'clock hunger pangs by sipping glasses of water and avoiding all thought of food, but those darned chocolate biscuits call out to me from the cupboard in the kitchen with relentless frequency. Once, I even tried to convince myself that there weren't any biscuits there; it worked until my boss (aka Dad) ruined my cunning plan by asking for one to go with his cup of tea (you can believe anything your eyes don't see).

I don't eat biscuits at home. Never buy them. I never even get three o'clock hunger pangs...it's a work thing. It's got to be. Nevermind that, when I'm at home, I graze all day like a contented cow.

Three o'clock. It's that inbetween time: too early to start finishing up for the day and too late to have a late lunch. The end of work is in sight but not close enough. Before you know it, you can be drumming your fingers on the desk and staring at the clock, willing the time away...that's when the hunger pangs begin.

On my days off, three o'clock usually marks the middle of the day. Hours left to play with the cameras or to finish a long walk. At work, the hands of the clock stick to the numbers and refuse to budge, while I wait and wait and wait.

I'm not an avid office worker. You can probably tell. I'm better suited to more artistic, outdoor pursuits, where time is marked by the quality of light as the sun passes over the sky, not minutes or hours, or by how much work can be achieved in a day. I don't use targets, or SMART goals, and deadlines are just things that other people have to meet. It's no wonder I get so bored. When other people slave at their computer, my mind is in the clouds, flying over landscapes and having adventures.

When I can't ignore my hunger any longer, I usually sneak off into the kitchen and hastily eat my biscuit in silence...then walk back to the office with a glass of water and a look of innocence.

I've decided that I'd never make a good secret agent, they'd catch me way before the lie-detector was brought out: More than once I've found crumbs on my t-shirt that give the game away. 

I say that I admire the person who can sit in an office all afternoon without eating...but I'm not sure, now, if I do. I'd rather have my head in the clouds and my hands in the biscuit tin, while I wait for the clock to reach 5.

22. Less is More

I turned down a Blackberry today (no, not the fruit, the phone). I've coveted after a Blackberry for at least two years; today I finally had the chance to get one and, to my own surprise, I said no. What was I thinking?!

I was left slightly flabbergasted by my own snap decision. But, the truth is, I don't actually want to be contactable 24/7 by email, text or phone call. Sometimes, I might want to be "unreachable". If I got the latest all-singing and all-dancing mobile phone, I would be contactable almost wherever I am. I'd never get any peace, even when going for a quiet walk with my girl.

Besides, any object that seems to be "that good" never really is. (As an aside, I remember when I bought my first Playstation when I was 18 years old: it cost a bloody fortune but I was determined to get it because it was the must-have gadget of the year...only not long after that the price started to drop and I realised I could have waited until it was cheaper, the games were more expensive than I could afford at the time so I was stuck playing the demo for months, I didn't play on it for 10 years and, finally, it only sold for a fiver in a carboot sale. Was it really worth it?!).


To be fair, it's not just my like for gadgets that has gotten me into trouble with the bank, it's also the clever advertising that seducts you in every way possible. "You need this item", it tells you. You see, when you have money, there is always the need to spend it on something. Anything.  That "anything" is, we are told, the thing that will make us happy...until it breaks, of course, or we decide that something else will make us happy instead.

Being a bit of a gadget-geek, I've come up with a clever plan to keep my spending in check: to test whether or not I really really want something I make myself wait for at least 6 months, if I still want it after that then it's worth getting (and it will be cheaper by then too) but, most of the time, I discover that it was merely a desire for something that I had no real need for.

So, I've decided to try to practise a little contentment with the things that I already own. I actually want to make do. I don't want to waste what little resources I have and I don't want to be told that my two-year old laptop is "obsolete" and too slow (note, this is usually by manufacturers who would conveniently make a bob or two from selling me the latest "dream machine"). I'm actually quite happy with my laptop, slow or not.

Venerable Cheng Yen said: "Happiness does not come from having much, but from being attached to little." And I ask myself on a daily basis: how many things that I am attached to will fall apart or sell for a fiver in a few years time? If I wasn't so attached to these things, would it matter to me if I owned them at all? There are more important things in life than the latest gadget.

21. The Carboot Sale

There's something about carboot sales. It's the early morning bustle as the sellers park up in the chosen location, and the unpacking of boxes worth of goods onto foldable tables; the mad rush of what I would call the "professional" carbooter - the ones who have a keen eye and know what to look for and what price to ask; the bartering; the cheap cups of tea in polystyrene cups and the smell of cooking bacon (a carboot tradition).

It's not the first time I've tried to sell things at a carboot sale but, since then, I've learnt some tricks:

• The first one thing to remember how much you bought something for and then realise that you're probably only going to get 10% back for it. It really can be as low as that. 
• If you have anything above £5.00 at a carboot...it won't sell. Or, at least, that's my experience. 
• When it comes to the day, you have to be ruthless. Ask yourself: do you really want to take something back home again? Or are you willing to sell it cheaper for the sake of getting rid of it.
• When it comes to bartering you've got two types of people: 1. The type who actually like to barter and play by the rules. They say "will you take a pound for the two of these" (knowing that they've been labelled as £1.50 each), you say "two pounds", they say "£1.50". That's the way it's supposed to work. 2. The second type of barterer will say "will you take a pound for the two of these" (knowing that they been labelled as £1.50 each); you say "two pounds", they say "a pound", you say "one fifty" (hoping), they say "a pound".
• Having a 50 pence "bargain" box is like a lucky-dip for adults. Make sure that it's filled with little trinkets and junk and they'll spend ages rifling through it in the hopes of finding that real bargain. 
• Keep your eyes peeled. Nobody likes to think that there are thieves around but items are quite apt to just "walk off" into someone's handbag. 

I'm not a materialistic person, but watching people look for a bargain as they rifled through my belongings was not easy. It made me feel...grubby.


This was the stuff that I'd bought, saved for, and been given over the past fifteen years or so. By mid-morning, half of my things were sold for a fraction of what I'd bought them for and it slowly dawned on me: I'm thirty years old and selling my life. Or a life...a "past" life.

I've been through this all before, of course, when I had to de-clutter when I moved last. Hundreds of books were thrown in the bookbank, carloads of crap was taken to the dump, and the whole process actually hurt me emotionally. Why? They're only inanimate objects, after all.

Over the last year, I've really wanted to sort out my belongings but storing tons of boxes in the attic felt better than having to dig through it all and get rid of what I didn't need, because I knew that digging through it would bring back unwanted memories. And that's the point. I realised that it's not the objects themselves that I wanted to keep but, perhaps, the emotions and memories I've attached to them I wanted to keep buried. It was avoidance. But it was also a weight around my neck and now that I've sold nearly everything, the weight has gotten lighter.

19. Goodbye Old Friend.

The television set was taken. There was no time for farewells or even, I dare to say, time to wipe off that thin layer of dust off the stand. The woman bustled into the house and, within moments, it was gone.

17. Life

A fly bit me. It was a horsefly, boldly clinging onto my arm while gingerly piercing a hole in my arm ready to sup on my blood. It would not get off. I don't blame it; it was doing what any horsefly would do. 

9. Life on the Edge

We were on a photowalk last night, taking photographs in a field left to fallow, when I came across these little beetles. There were females, like the one above, heavily laden with eggs, and males that were wandering in search of the females. I've never seen such beautiful beetles before.

The thing is, the females were so heavy that, because they were often in precarious positions such as gripping onto the underside of leaves, they would sometimes lose grip and fall off with a tiny thud into the undergrowth. A life in macro, with no awareness of the hugeness of the world, that one tiny drop was probably like half a lifetime of falling...like a huge event for those tiny creatures.

I watched the beetles and thought about how each of us have our own little dramas with little grasp on how small they really are in the grand scheme of things. Like ranting at the person who has just cut you up on a roundabout (because it's such a big event, right?), or the argument you just had with your partner is like the end of the world as you know it. I'm as guilty as most people for making such small little molehills seem like mountains.

I love macro photography so much. It allows me to view the world in a completely different way. Sometimes, it's not just about seeing the grand scheme of things but also seeing that even the smallest thing can feel so huge.

6. You Scratch my back...

A photograph taken on Bodmin Moor yesterday. It was the second day of blissful adventure. The weather was perfect all weekend. The day before, we visited Cardinham woods where we headed off the footpaths and followed deer tracks into the woods. We weren't lucky enough to see any deer but it didn't matter. We didn't need to see them to make the day any more wonderful. It was the adventure and the experience that mattered.

We were driving home yesterday, and I told Kirsty that I've never felt such a sense of being completely content before. And it's true. It's like a comfortable, light warmth that makes me feel like I'm at peace with myself, and that I'm perfectly happy with all that I have and need nothing more. I think it's the feeling you get when you begin to accept who you are as a person, and when you know that you are living your life and enjoying the world around you to the full.

"Occasionally in life there are those moments of unutterable fulfillment which cannot be completely explained by those symbols called words. Their meanings can only be articulated by the inaudible language of the heart."
Martin Luther King, Jr.

3. Wax on; Wax off

"I hungry" is all I heard drifting across the field while I was taking a photograph. Next thing, a bored Kirsty started pretending to be a martial artist under a tree. I captured her on "film", of course.

We'd been out for a walk after work, trundling around Pendennis Castle with cameras in tow. It was a warm evening, with a beautiful light; bluebells were everywhere. Kirsty encouraged me to take a little "diversion" off the path up a steep embankment, through undergrowth and brambles before heading back slowly to the car. We had a wonderful time.

I always have a good time with Kirsty. No one else has ever given me the room to grow and spread my wings, nor encouraged me so much to try my best at everything I do. She teaches me a lot about life; maybe we teach each other, I don't know. But I do know that thinking about her gives me the most unfathomably warm feeling I've ever had.

This photograph, called "Wax on, Wax off", is perhaps one of the better photographs I've taken that demonstrate Kirsty's character. And I post it to say thank you, for all the support and the simple belief in my work. It's given a new life to my photography, which means more to me than can be imagined.

There’s a light
A certain kind of light
That never shone on me
I want my life to be lived with you
The Bee Gees

2. The Details of Life

Life becomes jaded with our own preconceptions and habitual behaviour. Trapped in our own prison, we see things the way we have been programmed to see. Circumstances repeat themselves and we react with the same old patterns; arguments flare up over the same small issues and we still do not learn. But we can choose to change.

Hard work though it is, it is possible to retrain the mind to see things from a different perspective; to view the world with different eyes; reprogram ourselves to form positive mental pathways; to view the details of life and realise that they are merely the synopsis not the story itself.

"One sees great things from the valley; only small things from the peak". G.K. Chesterton.