A NEW RANGE OF JEWELLERY FOR CHRISTMAS

My newest venture this year has been to join with 16 other artists and craftspeople in the Wigton area to open a new gallery in Wigton, The Fountain Gallery. The paintings cover a range of styles and subjects, and we also have pottery, basketwork and jewellery, as well as cards and prints. Sales are steady and interest and enthusiasm are great: "This is just what Wigton needs"


I am delighted to say that I have sold one painting and several pieces of jewellery. We are of course looking to increase our sales in the run-up to Christmas, so I have created a new range of affordable earrings, already packaged. 

The earrings- simple and pretty, with sterling silver and hand made glass beads

 

 

 

 Each pair of earrings is displayed on its own greeting card- simple and easy: a pretty gift for under £10!






Come and see the full range of jewellery, cards, pots and paintings at our late night openings: every Thursday night until Christmas.


On Thursday 10th November, enjoy a glass of mulled wine as you browse!

Arequipa, a dazzling city, built of white granite with elabourite wedding cake churches; city of eternal summer, with only five days of rain a year; a startlingly European city in the midst of the Andes; apparently a centre of right wing politics- not hard to believe as it seems Spanish to the core, and the native population are mainly to be seen trying to sell their goods on street corners. This is a city that bespeaks the wealth and power of the ruling class, its massive cathedral tower over the little people.

We are now on the last leg of our Peruvian tour and have fetched up in this odd but beguiling place. Yesterday we spent a couple of hours wandering round the beautiful and peaceful Santa Catalina monastery, a small town within the town, where the daughters of wealthy and middle class Spaniards "retreated" in the fifteenth century. And who could blame them? What choices were offered them? Get married at 14 or so to a man chosen for dynastic or financial reasons, to be raped on a regular basis and get the chance to die in childbirth? Or go into a convent, and learn to read and write, have your own room with comforts of bed, chamber pot and small kitchen, and have the chance of power and influence as Mother Superior? Would you prefer to have your hand cut off, or not?

Tomorrow we get up at 2.30 am to take a bus to Colca Canyon where we are assured, we will see a some of the remaining few condors in the wild. I expect to be knocked sideways by this, as I have so many other experiences, but will it equal floating down the Rio Momon in the middle of the night, getting a first glimpse of the towering green mountains overlooking Machu Picchu, being hugged by a laughing woman who lives in a hut made of reeds built on a floating island on Titicaca, or even catching sight of the distant snow-clothed mountains of Bolivia across this great, high inland sea? I will let you know in future posts!

Swimming with Piranas and Dancing with Dolphins

A small crack, only just audible above the pec pec pec of the outboard, sent the two guys dozing on the narrow benches at the front scrabbling on the mucky floor of the boat, using their mobile phones to pierce the thick dark. A grunt and a splash and the small fish who had made an unfortunate leap in the dark, was pitched back into the river. These guys, employees and freelancers of the Amazon Rainforest Lodge are relatively affluent: I sense their forefathers would have seen it as a gift from the river gods.

We set out in total dark from the lodge at 4.00 am, after a night of spectacular crashing thunder, rain and an amazing light show, but the river was still dangerously low, so the trip that would have taken about an hour in the metal speedboat with its big butch 70 HP Johnson outboard had to be done in a little wooden pec pec. These boats, mostly open, but a few with palm thatched roofs, have small and highly manouverable outboards with very long prop-shafts like cake whisks. They form most of the traffic on the Amazon and its tributaries and you see families pec pec pec-ing their way down river in the early morning to sell their goods in Iquitos: charcoal and bananas forming the main cargo, with boats loaded to an inch or two of freeboard. Often the whole family will go, to enjoy the day out and mix business with pleasure. Kids wave at passing boats and grannies shelter under multi coloured umbrellas and makeshift shelters: odd mixture of traditional and modern as palm leaves vie with plastic. (Plastic water bottles act as net floats and bouys, warning of sand bars and sunken logs. Little is wasted)

Our particular pec pec of this morning was covered with blue plastic which dripped condensation on us, but was a bit special, as the driver was a professional. Our personal guide, Jimy, stood in the prow with a flashlight, playing it across the surface of the water from one bank to the other, trying to pick out the standing ripples that warn of a sand bar just beneath the surface. We could occasionally make out a night bird´s call above the engine, and once or twice Jimy caught a white bird in his torch beam. It was an eery and tense experience, and I was thinking of it as a bit of jolly adventure, in a sort of Boys´ Own kind of way,with a nice feeling of peril, without any real danger, when we hit a sand bar hard, and the boat slewed round and tilted; the freeboard on my side reduced to about 2 centimetres. Then I really was frightened: were we going to be tipped into the muddy and probably freezing cold water? Were the piranas we failed to catch the day before waiting to turn the tables on us?

There was much rocking of the boat, plenty of prodding and shoving and lots of noise from the labouring cake whisk, as the driver put it into reverse, stirred  the muddy river up even more, and finally got us afloat again. Then I felt foolish- there really was nothing to worry about- these guys live on the river, and getting stuck on a sand bank was certanly no worse than us getting a flat, or needing a jump start.

Later that day, we emerged from the Rio Momon- "our" tributary onto the mighty Amazon itself, where our heroes of the dark night turned into our personal David Attenboroughs, and whistled up a couple of pink river dolphins for us.

I´ll try to post some pics- I have about 1500 so far, as those who know me will not be surprised to know, and add a few more episodes from my journal when I next hit a computer, and have some down time. We danced with the local morris team, shook hands with a spider monkey and stroked a 20 foot long anaconda, as well as examining the teeth of a small pirana: but that´s another story.

Of Quality, Computers and Controversy

Local Quality
Local is a very important word in my vocabulary, and Quality is another, and for me, they go hand in hand. I have written about quality here, and it is the main criterion I use to select the books I publish. However, I recognise, seek out, and exploit Quality in all areas of life. When I find it I like to celebrate it.
Quality is the principle which governs the many small independent businesses in Wigton, and will ensure their success and survival in the face of Tesco and other powerful giant chains. A recent article by Sue Allan in Cumbria Life gave a good impression of a vibrant bustling and interesting town. I could write at length of the excellent greengrocer's (just one- Lightfoot's- selling a huge range of local and wonderful produce, including locally made cheeses and fiery chorizo) butcher's (several, all very good, and each with their loyal customer base) and baker's shops, but I want to mention a recent discovery.
Computer Magician
I have had a lot of computer problems recently- and who doesn't- and was in despair at the arrogant and hard-nosed attitude of Comet, so I thought I'd chance the unknown, and phone the person who advertised by means of a board on the Wigton by-pass. I had nothing to lose, and found, over several months, that I had everything to gain. Not only is James Percy, the proprietor of Cumbria Computer Consultants, a really nice bloke- he knows his stuff, and immediately inspires confidence. He has fixed so many problems for me that I even entrusted my new and precious Macbook to him, and he liaised with Apple to diagnose the problem. As all really good "fixers"- (I would include builders, plumbers and electricians)- he is a creative problem solver who thinks laterally. I have no hesitation in saying to anyone with a computer,"Try James first. He's Quality"
Emotive Energy Issues
On a different, but still local note, I received some interest from a tweet about the proposed Little Waver Windfarm, and for my announcement of the Nuclear Debate in Cockermouth on 17th September. A quick skim through the comments on this article in the News and Star, reveals the huge divergence of local opinions. Both issues are hot and topical, and divide people along non-traditonal lines: you cannot predict which way a peson you know to be "green" will go on either topic; and both issues are very local. Nor do people divide along party political lines. For my own part, I have always been anti nuclear, but people like Mark Lynas, one of the speakers in the Cockermouth debate, have made me stop and think, so that I will be trying to find out more; and although wind power sounds good in theory, I am appalled at the way many turbines seem to dwarf the landscape and buildings near them. More importantly, I am very shocked by the vast sums of money paid to landowners out of government subsidies. I also think onshore farms are inefficient, when winds are sporadic and inconsistent. Just as with nuclear power, we do not know either true costs or efficiency.

How many lakes are there in the Lake District?

When my children were young, they took great pride in instructing visitors: there is only one lake in the Lake District- the rest are meres or waters or tarns. There is Windermere, Wastwater, Coniston Water, Sprinkling Tarn, Ullswater, Buttermere. The names roll off the tongue, quirky and evocative. Only Bassenthwaite requires the addition of the word "lake" to pin it down.

I was gratified that my older daughter, now in her late thirties, and visiting from London, was horrified when she read a tourist leaflet mentioning "Lake Windermere". I have been raging about this particular bit of local dumbing down for some time. Why can't visitors be instructed? Are all our visitors so stupid, that they can't understand that "mere" and "water" mean "lake"? It seems to me that this is a concession to our visitors that they neither need nor want. We underestimate people's ability to absorb knowledge and enjoy learning new words and concepts. Our visitors used to chuckle when caught out by our children. They took away a little bit of extra knowledge; a tiny mental enrichment; a small link to the past.

A Successful Search

Dad, Ted,  Seamus and Granny went in search of the places where Little Lucie and Mrs Tiggy-winkle lived. In her book, The Tale of Mrs Tiggy-winkle, Beatrix Potter says that  Lucie lives in a farm called Little-town. Grannie, who lives close to the Lake District suggested a day out in Newlands Valley, because she knew that the book was set in Newlands and that Little-town nestled under the delightfully named Catbells mountain.

 Ted and Seamus in Newlands with Catbells in the distance

Ted, Seamus, Dad .... and the other member of the party, Snoop the dog

We found Little-town farm with no difficulty, and were trying to work out the angle from which Miss Potter had painted it, but fortunately, the farmer who owned it told us that she actually drew a farmhouse further down the valley. So off we went, down twisting single track roads, and sure enough we found the original.

Seamus and Ted in front of Skelgill Farm

Ted is holding up the book, open at the picture which is supposed to be Littletown. Apart from the colour on the doors, very little has changed

After seeing Littletown and Skelgill, we drove back up the valley, heading for the pass- Newlands Hause. All the farmers were gathering their sheep off the fells for clipping, and we were surrounded by a river of sheep.

Having driven through the sheep, we chugged further up the valley and spotted a waterfall in the distance.

Seamus was very excited and wanted to walk right up to it.

After spending a little time looking at the waterfall, which is at the top of the pass, we headed down towards Buttermere, and eventually home.

Ted spotted this odd looking tree, built into the wall. It looks like something out of The Lord of the Rings

A new gallery to open in Wigton

I am delighted to announce that The Fountain Gallery will open in Wigton in September 2011. It will be run by a co-operative of over a dozen local artists and craftspeople, and I am proud to be one of them!  This is a nice piece of irony for me, as, many years ago, I ran a small gallery on the opposite side of the road, down the alley called Duke Street.

"The Thorn" one of my recent paintings. Acrylics and mixed media

The gallery is named after Wigton's Memorial Fountain, built in 1872 by George Moore for his wife Eliza

Fortunately, they're not all like that!

Our band, Long Meg, doesn't do the number of public ceilidhs we would like, so we do a succession of private parties, fundraisers and weddings. Weddings are either great fun, or a total pain, but either way, they take a great deal more time and trouble than the average village hall do, when you turn up at six, set up, sound check, play for three and a half hours, pack up, and leave about twelve thirty.

Setting up in the pretty white marquee beside  Coniston Water

The cake was bang on theme with red and white spots and checks

Most weddings have what band leader Paul calls "the embuggeration factor": you turn up at any time between one and four, try to set up, negotiating with caterers, hotel staff, best men, mothers in law, nervous brides and drunken friends; get told that you are contravening the venue's health and safety rules; be told you must not make that terrible noise (sound check up the spout); be unable to play for several hours while speeches take place and fifteen courses are served; have to play the bride's mother's favourite song through your PA, and finally get to play for a couple of hour if you're lucky; pack up and leave at about one, tripping over the cables of the disco man they've neglected to tell you they've booked in case their younger guests don't like your music! (In fact it's usually the other way round: young people love our mix of traditional tunes with blues/rock rhythms, and older people often like old pop music)

Fortunately, not all weddings are like that, and sometimes they are wonderful: you feel caught up in a happy event and share and contribute to the joy. yesterday' was one such.

OK, so we turned up at four- after a long drive- but we did drive through some of the most beautiful long and winding roads in England, to the heart of the high fells by Coniston Water and The Old Man, where  a marquee filled with light- and red and white bunting- waited in the afternoon sunlight.

New Long Meg line-up- Liz, Neil, Mike, Paul, Joe

This could have been a sad gig for us, as it was the last for our drummer Joe. However we got caught up in the joy of the afternoon, and were surrounded by the enthusiasm and warmth of Liz and Lucy, and their family and friends.

After our other veteran band member, fiddler Pete Crofts, recently retired, we thought we'd never find the sound again, but Liz, seen below with guest fiddler Neil, makes a great sound, gutsy yet precise. So Long Meg is still Long Meg- but a bit different!

We are still sad that Joe has left us, but also confident that we can lure him back for the odd gig or two. We wish him luck and look forward to his next exhibition: Joe is a talented artist, as you can see from his website.

All things simple and good: pretty table settings, sunlight on trees, good food, good music, good beer, love and joy

 Good luck, long life and happiness to Liz and Lucy; ave atque vale-  Joe and Pete; the sun on all our paths!

The World Premier of my Radio Play

My short Radio Play Words Worth Hearing will be broadcast on local radio on Thursday 23rd December between 9.30 and 9.50 am, 6.00 and 7.00 pm, and on the late evening show between 10.00 pm and 1.00 am. It is one of five plays accepted for broadcast by Radio Cumbria, and written by North Cumbria Script Writers. We had great fun recording them with some talented local actors and directors. The five plays were  produced, recorded and edited by Belinda Artingstoll. You can hear Radio Cumbria streamed live or listen again.

The Launch of Trifolium Books

This is one of those inevitable things- a decision which just about made itself. The publishing industry seems to be going the way of the music industry, and all our efforts to get Kathleen Herbert's stunning fourth novel published in the traditional way have come to naught. So, inevitably, we have said "A plague on all your publishing houses".... and set up our own.
Some notes on the reasons for this:

Publishers are very reluctant to take on new books for good reasons. Here is how the money paid for a book divides up between the parties:

Publisher’s net profit               5%

Publisher’s overheads             9%

Distribution/marketing    8%

Manufacturing                15%

Author’s share                8%

Retailers’ share              55%

Figures from The Writers' and Artists' Yearbook Guide to Getting Published: The Essential Guide for Authors (Writers & Artists Yearbook Gde) Harry Bingham

• Because there is now so little profit in publishing, publishers and agents are taking very few risks. (Agents make their money by charging authors 15% of their royalties: given that an author makes 80p per nominal £10 book sold, it’s not surprising that agents are even more reluctant than publishers to take on new writers. (And publishers usually only take on authors who have already persuaded an agent to represent them)
• My perception is that there are now many more people writing novels than perhaps 10-15 years ago
• Adult fiction constitutes only 26% of book sales
• Despite what looks like a huge profit margin for retailers, most of that is eaten up by overheads, discounts to overseas buyers, discounts to customers, and the fact that they take up shelf and storage space etc.
• For all the above reasons, books by celebrities and by already well-known authors are snapped up, and quality is hardly considered either by agent or publisher; saleability is what matters (see Kate Mosse, and dare I say it, Dan Brown)

Parallel to the problems with mainscale publishing, there has been a huge growth in self publishing/indie publishing (interestingly reflecting what has been happening in the music industry)

People are still buying huge numbers of books, but I have the impression that they are written by a dwindling number of authors.

I have had both support and interest through various historical blogs, and through researching the books and authors mentioned, I have come to realise that there is a community of independent authors and very small, often specialist publishers- or rather there is a plethora of communities mostly interlinked. 

Trifolium Books will join that community in 2011; please support Kathleen and Trifolium by checking Get it Written for dates and places, tell your friends, and buy a copy of Moon in Leo when it's published.

Is grey the new black? Musings on the colour of underwear

Do you feel like this when you wear white underwear? No, neither do I, but it does look nice- at least for a handful of wearings. How long before it goes the way of all underwear and ends up the colour Ben Elton calls "thousand wash grey"? It all gets there in the end, but white has a head start, and black usually ends up round the ankles, all stretch gone, before it reaches the Nirvana of TWG.
While I'm on the subject, can we rename the sort of neutral colour that I often buy from M&S in the hopes of postponing the advent of TWG? Too many people still think of it as "flesh colour" (the actual colour of flesh is red- look in the butcher's window) I also like the story of a class of kids from a London primary school whose protest at the name of some coloured pencils consisted of them sending a large sheet of paper to the pencil manufacturers with dozens of colours which they had mixed: their message was, "These are our flesh colours"

Anyway, back to the name of the colour; I suggest Surgical Appliance Pink, as that's what it's nearest to. I wish they would do more of the sort of nice pinky grey colour I used to call mink. Perhaps I should just buy grey in the first plac?

Recent Paintings

 

Mike's oil portrait of the guide at the Laphroig Distillery

Watercolour version of the above

Steve Cleary by Mike

Con's Cover Design for Moon in Leo based on a photograph taken in Furness

Northern Fells Dyptich

Northern Fells

I am continuing with my semi abstract landscapes, and Mike is getting rather good at portraits.

Getting down to it (or rather up)

The garden has been neglected recently, due to Avril's shoulder injury, and our preoccupation with getting Moon in Leo published. However, we have started trying to do a minimum of an hour a day when the weather permits: unglamourous things like digging out the gutters and cutting back the climbers. Yesterday was sunny and dry, warm even, so I spent some soggy hours removing dead leaves and slime from the unseen places while Mike cut back the ivy.

Early morning on a beautiful day

Mike gets up to it!

The last few grapes

Tall grass seed heads catch the low sun

Cut back, the ivy no longer threatens the gutters and fascia boards

Photos, paintings, cake and drama- what more can you ask for?

We had the most amazing day out on Friday. It is difficult to credit how much quality there is, so close to home. The day was planned just for an art exhibiton, and to see the Quondam Theatre production which we had missed when it was performed locally.

First of all we went to the preview at Red Barn Gallery, Melkinthorpe. We were both really struck by the work of two painters: Jean Laing and Robert Newton. 
We followed with a great cup of coffee and delicious (in my case gluten free) cake in the restaurant attached to the gallery and nursery. (It was gluten free because there wasn't much room in it for anything other than chocolate :-)

The play was performed ten minutes away in the lovely village of Askham, which has an excellent pub, the Queen's Head. It has a welcome second to none, and again, really delicious gluten free food. One of the owners is Tommy Martin whose exhibition of photographs we saw in his gallery just opposite the pub.

Bellies and minds well fed, we went just next door to the village hall to see the best production I have seen yet by our excellent local theatre company, Quondam.

All this- and less than 45 minutes from home.

Ms Potter would approve: garden update

This cheeky little chap visits us every day, and is getting cheekier and more daring in his approaches to the house. Beatrix Potter gave them an undeservedly good press, but I have to confess I do find this one rather cute. He may be living a charmed life at the moment, so long as he sticks to eating grass, but he had better not start on our lettuces!

In the meantime, we are enjoying the novel pleasure of eating our own home-grown veg. Am I a very sad person to get excited at the sight of a cauliflower?

Freshly cut!

Swallow production line

Our original swallow wasn't too daunted by the intruder who built on his old nest: he simply started building a new one- on top of the seive! So, I had to buy a new one- sheltering wildlife gets expensive! The rather tatty nest in the eaves of the cabin from last summer fell down during the winter, but the swallows were still determined to rebuild, so we made it easier for them by nailing up a rough shelf. They kept up a constant shrill attack while we were doing it- a four syllable shout which sounds like "Get out the way!" They still do it now, whenever anyone goes into the cabin or the carport. However- they have good reason, as there are at least four babies in the carport nest, and three in the cabin, and so many mouths need a lot of stuffing!