No Space of Ones Own Devices.

I want a slice of some space that really feels like mine and the room in the hostel is the only thing I've got. Everything else, everywhere else, is not mine. Its mine by another hand, by another person and I'm left with no space, only things and things with no place of their own. In the same reason you dislike going to the hostel, I have to love that little room because its a spaced carved out for myself. ME. When people go in and disrespect that it causes me distress, because I worked hard for it. I gave up a lot and I changed a lot about myself in that room and to get that room And now, with this half way between I'm anxious.

You give me so much by calling your house ours and it is ours because you and I are WE but I'm still left with corners and spaces.

When people paint and chose the colours of my walls, it frustrates me.
Here is this thing I know you will like. I know you will, but I haven't told you. I haven't asked you, because in the end the space, while holding your name isn't yours. So I give white wall after white wall my things to lean against to make my own. Create and love and then have it changed again. But even then, even then...

Perhaps it is why I make so many stories. World upon world can be my own, walls, towers, cites, mountains, they can be this place to hang my ideas, my person, and be a face, and a presence that isn't always building upon the backs and labours of others.

Perhaps I am dramatic. Perhaps in this new passage of my life I've not sat back and seen anything else other than myself being strong. I've become the characters I've so wished to be. Stronger, wiser, kinder. Their ink-made blood runs through mine.

Does a space need to be my identity? Do I need to have it to mark my place? Perhaps I want the things that I've made for my identity to have a home. The things I've looked at and held because they have come with me, they have looked back when I've laughed and cried to myself, when I was my own Iron fortress, with cold high walls. Perhaps I want to have a home. A space to call my own.

A Walk in the Woods: McKellar Balsam Trail

In the spring of 2013 I went for a walk in the woods with my dogs, Georgia and Derby. I tested my camera, new walking shoes and got some lovely pictures. 

Wild Scottish Spring

An Old Friend

Home and Beyond

At the End of a Long Road

The Sea Will Come Again

Tall. Dark Stranger

Back to the Sands

Fire made from Sparks

Vertebra

Clear

There's the Spirit of Adventure

The Mountains and Islands Beyond

Two Roads

Inside [this house] Beats the Heart of my Madness.

I have reached the point where I've become frustrated with the building. The hostel is older and often Things patched along as it goes. Sometimes further back then I know. Then those things, having spent a long time doing what their supposed to be doing (i.e., being walls or toilets), decide it would be way cooler not to be those things.

Usually I can put my Predator face on and be happy.

Screen Cap. Predator movie, 

But yesterday it was madness.

In a matter of 5 hours, the radiator collapsed off the wall, pumping black radiator fluid, which I'm not certain is the same fluid that makes Guinness. After finally stopping it, we had to disconnect it from the pipe and the room was out of commission. The wall behind in ruins, and filled with horse hair (yes horse hair, I guess they used to plaster walls with it as a binding agent), I realized I'm fully booked for tomorrow. Calling a good friend/joiner/construction dude over, the patch of wall was torn away, leaving the lath exposed. It needs to be plaster boarded, smoothed and painted all in 24 hours. The carpet is trashed, which is most annoying to me.

An hour after this happened the leaky toilet turned non functional as the parts that were not mean for each other came apart, thus rendering one of the main toilets useless.

Quickly after, more minor, but the vacuum bag inside the vacuum exploded blasting dust all over one of the cleaners and the kitchen. Luckily no Henry was harmed in the process and we re bagged it.

Then last, but not least. A guest left the taps running upstairs and flooded the upstairs bathroom, pouring down into the other bathroom through the light fixture. This last act really brought home the phrase, "when it rains it pours."

The wall was repaired this morning, needing one more coat of paint after the putty has dried. The water has been moped, the sink unplugged, the sparky/electrician called and the toilet parts on the way. Henry is alive and well.

I'm usually good at compartmentalizing my work and not getting frustrated with hostel build/structure problems. But I was nearly at the end of my rope this morning. Its such a lovely, cosy hostel and it does my head in when I find half done and half shot work crumbling around me, its upsetting, not for the fact that its broken, but someone didn't take the time or the money to do a proper job of it in a place that takes so much wear and tear, and someone like me, who's really left with an unsure budget and unreliable company builders. I do the best with what I am given.

So I'm left with a mess and an option. Crumple and give up or roar in the face of it. I choose roaring every time.

Roar

Passion of Motion

Wind. (Also you can see the first bird I tried to draw silhouetted on the other side of the page)

There is passion in motion, the act of going or the look in the eyes of something ready to move. Go!

Some Garden Update: I've Murdered.

Peas, Beans and Tomatoes. Here's some gardening updates

I started the peas and beans from scratch. They're up fine, though I almost over watered them to death. At this point, I've put the beans in the garden and waiting to see if they make it through Scottish weather and Kelsey's fire hands.

Second! Tomatoes! I don't have the confidence, and I don't think Scotland is good for heat needing plants, but I'll do my best for the little devils. I'm going to indoor pot two of them, and the other 4 are going outside in the garden when they're a little sturdier.

They're a bit wilted now, but it means that I've over watered and not used the right soil. If they make it past this time of wilting then hopefully I'll get the right container mix and grow some tomatoes. I did get the right tomato mix, a good potting soil and some mild fertilizer. This plant was a lot stronger looking, started locally and sold by a local business, which made me feel a we bit better about my purchase.

Peas

Tomato 1

How to Make Anchovy Paste

Scotland is shite for salad. I've yet to have a good one, at least. The locals can certainly cook them well and yet the menus are saturated in "Salad cream", Code for mayo with a fancy hat.

I've bought salad dressings, french and the like but in the end, I'm hunting for the classic Caesar.

In the end I had to make it.

I've made a Caesar before. It was a quick make for a big family dinner, after I've done a  heavy dessert earlier in the day. So I thought to make it again. Here is the recipe. Now, try to do the salad justice with the mayo and oil, but the rest can be worked with and tweeked.

It has anchovy paste in it, and the supermarket/grocery store didn't have any. So I made it. Couldn't be that hard? It was nice to make something from scrap.

Salad Dressing

So Anchovy paste, like I promised

Get some anchovies.

Slice them.

Chop them.

Mash with  a fork until pasty

A dash of olive oil.

Mash again.

Done.

Salad. Eat. Smiles.

Happy and easy.