Friday, 5 September 2014

The Sea, The Sea

Sandy Cove
Picture by Diana Morrison
04/09/14
I am so lucky to live so close to the sea. Even now, it holds a childish magic for me possibly due to its association with holidays and happy times, those shiny distant days of endless sunshine and laughter, which were probably nothing of the sort but for wistful nostalgia!
I was born in Leicester, which if you didn't know, is in the East Midlands of England and is about as far away as you can get from the sea. The closest beach to us was Skegness, 85 miles east of us although my family preferred Mablethorpe for a day trip to the seaside, a distance of 98 miles from our home. We didn't do that very often.
Our annual holidays were always taken on magical Dartmoor, 222 miles away, a journey which took 5 hours 39 minutes, because my mother would not let my father use the motorway - we're talking the 1970s here, so that time may be inaccurate! From our B&B outside of Widecombe-in-the-Moor, we had a choice of fabulous beaches close by; beautiful Dawlish and Teignmouth, Beer, Seaton and Beesands  and the fabulous Torbay beaches  of Torquay, Paignton and Brixham and as I said, the sun always shone. I would spend hours on my own just walking and playing on the beach, pretending that I was some mystical Sea Person come to fight with the evil City and Sand People, wishing that I could remain forever and crying when the day and indeed the holiday drew to a close.
Time passed and circumstances changed, the altered family left Leicester in 1984 and settled in Gunnislake, bang on the river Tamar, the border between Devon and Cornwall. Suddenly, the closest beach was only  forty minutes away. For a while it felt like being permanently on holiday, although I had ostensibly grown out of imagining that I was that "Sea Person.” Reality soon kicked in though, work had to be found and an adult life had to be forged, the ups and downs of which were enhanced or made bearable by proximity to the sea and knowing that I could escape whenever I needed peace.
Jonathan’s love of the sea eclipses mine. With a different upbringing and a different perspective, he prefers to be on it rather than beside or in it. I was introduced to sailing shortly after we met. Dromengro (which means “Road Man” or traveller in Romany) was the name of his father’s boat. She was fast and robust and big enough for a nervous sailor to feel safe in and I fell in love. Unfortunately, my first trip aboard Dromengro, from Polruan to Mylor, was to be my last. We were sailing her to a yacht brokerage as she was for sale.
I still enjoy sailing, but Ganga Devi (Jonathan’s 22ft yacht, with an incredible history), is a different ride to Dromengro and we have conflicting ideas of what a good sail is. Keep in sight of land, don’t heel over too far and I'm happy!

On board Ganga Devi
Picture by Diana Morrison
03/08/14

We moved to Ireland in 2001 and our propinquity to the sea was initially down to less than five minutes. We have moved house twice since then and whilst there is a lovely quay at the bottom of a very steep hill in our village, the closest beach where the waves can creep in and gently tickle the shore or crash in wildly on a fresh or strong gale of wind, is Sandy Cove, which is less than ten minutes away.
I was there yesterday evening, in the sea fog and drizzle, escaping from reality. It was deserted and I stayed for an hour, taking photographs. I found the peace and solace I needed to deal with a miserable situation at home – and I confess that just for a little while, I pretended to be that Sea Person, silently shouting back at the world.


Thursday, 4 September 2014

Diana Morrison - Images

Picture by Diana Morrison
06/05/14

 I have recently taken an unprecedented leap of self-confidence and set up a Facebook page to showcase my photography, which along with my writing, gives me a pleasing creative outlet that lets me indulge my introversion to the full!
The page, although still in its infancy has reached 94 "likes", OK, mostly from my Facebook friends, but I've had some nice comments and feedback so far, which is encouraging. If you want to check it out, like it and share it with your friends, here is the link:

On top of that, I have also set up an Instagram account, as a lot of the pictures I take with my mobile phone will not appear on my images page. If you want to follow me, I'll be very happy to see you there - here is the link:

Finally - look out for another blog post later - I'm going to be really brave and publish a random chapter from "Find the River" here. Eeeek!

OK - self promotion done and dusted for today, phew! I'm off to seek the company of my friends, The Pens!

Monday, 28 April 2014

Not lost!

Coffee Break
21/03/14
Photo by Diana Morrison


Well, it's been a long time coming but finally I'm back. This time, I really do mean to write something here every day! Yeah, yeah best laid plans and all that!
I've been writing, writing and writing for the past six months or maybe more. I think I've just about given up on the the short stories; I can't be succinct to save my life. Instead, I have been concentrating on my epic "Find the River" or possibly "Finding the River." It has been giving me hours of pleasure and distracting me from unpleasant things like housework! I am having to juggle it with the garden though!
Anyway, as I am no longer entering competitions, I am not having to worry about whether I'm allowed to have my entries on my blog. So I have updated my pages with my entire short story collection, such as it is!
Enjoy!

Tuesday, 13 November 2012

Displaced

Bodmin Moor, Cornwall
Picture by Diana Morrison 22-08-12


Everyone needs to know where they belong and I'm struggling with that now.

 I moved to Ireland from Cornwall eleven and half years ago. When we moved, the Celtic Tiger was roaring and the grass was definitely very green - even more so with the rose-tinted glasses that were firmly fixed to my face. My son was just shy of his third birthday, so he had not made any firm attachments to the UK. It was the perfect time to make the move to a land that seemed to be brimming with opportunity for both ourselves and him. Times were good in the early days. There seemed to be no shortage of work for Jonathan and he established himself as a first rate carpenter/joiner/cabinet maker very quickly. The education system seemed vastly superior to that in the UK and Sylvan thrived in his early years of school, mastering the Irish language with incredible ease. Sure, he had a bit of a turbulent time through bullying, but that was rectified with a change of school and bullying is not unique to Ireland. Time passed and we were content.

Castlehaven, West Cork
Picture by Diana Morrison 16-09-12

It seemed too good to last, and it was.

 Global recession struck and Ireland was hit very hard. The work that was always plentiful was more hard to come by, as ordinary people could no longer afford to replace their windows or commission pieces of fine furniture. Thankfully, the rich are still rich (and possibly getting richer) and there are still a few people (mainly British) in the area that are able to keep some work coming in for Jonathan but prices in the supermarket and utility bills soared and it is hard just to stay afloat. 

The biddable three year old is now a sulky teenager with an attitude somewhere between drama queen and rock star, and a passionate dislike of mornings and school!

I have been quietly contemplating a move back to Cornwall for a couple of years now. It's not really deserting the sinking ship, it's more a case of needing somewhere to belong and feel comfortable. This thought has been compounded more recently by the birth of my grandaughter and the longing to be closer to her mother, my step-daughter Bethany. It is now a dull ache that won't go away.

Unfortunately, Jonathan and Sylvan are not with me on this one. Sylvan has a great social life and has made a lot of friends that he would not give up easily. Jonathan says that he needs to be by the sea and that he thinks that he would miss Ireland too much, adding that I probably would too. He might be right and herein lies the feeling of displacement.

 I know that the Cornwall I left will not be the Cornwall I would return to. Our visits have always confirmed that. People I knew and loved have grown and moved on and the economy is not much better than it is here. Ireland is very beautiful and I love  it very much, but at the moment, it is stagnant and almost without hope. Most of her people have lost their  passion and fire and idly sit  back and let all the cuts and changes happen without much of a fight. Ireland has been known to have a second referendum on important issues because they didn't answer correctly in the first one! 

The dilemma will continue for me. All I know is this: The main reason for staying right now is for Sylvan to finish his education but if I have many more mornings like this one, I'll be on that ferry in a flash!

Friday, 12 October 2012

21st Century Prejudice

Picture of Pam and Len Watkins with their restored Reading Wagon
by Laurie Kinsley


Racial prejudice is alive, well and kicking in the UK. Whilst it is unlawful to discriminate against a person on the grounds of race, colour, nationality, citizenship or ethnic origins (Race Relations Act 1976) it seems that discrimination against the Travelling Community is not covered by this law. In fact, it seems to be encouraged. During his speech to the Conservative Party Conference this week, Eric Pickles MP for Brentwood and Ongar  launched his latest policy to “stop caravans in their tracks”. He confirmed that Councils would have new powers to eject Travellers from private sites before they settled, promising that “Never again would local authorities have to spend a fortune in time and money enforcing planning laws against the Traveller Community”.

Look at this statement from a different perspective. 


"Communities’ secretary Eric Pickles chose the Conservative Party Conference on Monday to launch his latest policy to “stop caravans in their tracks”. The announcement was Pickles’ response to last year’s Dale Farm confrontation, where Basildon council completed decade-long proceedings to evict Jews occupying pitches without planning consent. Never again, he promised, would local authorities have to spend a fortune in time and money enforcing planning law against the Jewish community."

If this is what he had declared there would be a public outcry. And what about these headlines?


So why are the Travelling Community not protected under the Race Relations Act? The problem stems from Society’s refusal to accept or believe that Travellers are an ethnic minority, despite the fact that case law established Gypsies as a recognised ethnic group in 1989 and Irish Travellers as a distinct ethnic group in 2000 in England and Wales. Throughout history, they have been regarded as trouble, as dirty, as scroungers, (all of which are untrue) but it seems incredible to me that in the 21st century these labels still apply. Sure, they have their share of trouble makers and scroungers in common with every area of society, from the bankers at the top to the unemployed at the bottom. But isn’t that just tarring them all with the same brush? That sort of logic could implicate the whole of the British Army for atrocities to prisoners or the whole of the Irish nation for the death of Lord Mountbatten.


In his Conference Speech, David Cameron talked about spreading privilege ( a bad choice of word, surely he meant opportunity, but what can you expect from a privileged Eton educated man?). I wonder whether he factored the Travelling Community into this vision of Britain. It is very unlikely - surely he would not stand by and let Eric Pickles go ahead with his new policy if he had. 



There are changes afoot to the planning laws in the UK too. Laws will be relaxed for those fortunate enough to be able to afford to build an extension on their home or even build a new house in an effort to kick-start the economy. Will the Travellers benefit from this?  I think not. The NIMBYs will protest against any plans to increase the number of sites that are needed to house this ethnic group, the planning applications will continue to be rejected and racial equality will continue to be flouted.



Examples of racial prejudice against Travellers in the 21st Century


Picture from www.bbc.co.uk/kent/voices/prejudice


Picture from www.bbc.co.uk/kent/voices/prejudice

Wednesday, 10 October 2012

The Ravages of Time

Diana Morrison c1983


I came across this old photograph of myself the other day and it made me feel sad.

Ageing is such a cruel process. It creeps up on you stealthily and without mercy. One minute you're fresh faced with glossy abundant hair, flawless skin and a firm, healthy body and then one day you glance in a mirror and scarcely recognise your reflection. The lines around the eyes and mouth begin to appear, very subtly at first. The chin replicates itself like some cancerous cell. Hair loses its shine and colour and becomes finer and more brittle. As for the body - the waistline thickens and bits slowly begin to head south. Niggles of pain soon begin to make themselves apparent, joints begin to click and become less supple and energy levels become depleted more quickly. 

My poor mother never believed herself to be intelligent (she was, of course,) and her looks were everything to her. She was a very attractive woman but began to panic when she hit forty. The amount of money that she would spend on cosmetics and anti-wrinkle creams was outrageous. She became such a slave to maintaining her young, beautiful self that it became an obsession to her. In addition to the cosmetics, she would punish her body with a Jane Fonda work-out for an hour every day, and scarcely eat. We will never be sure whether this worked for her. She did lose a lot of weight, but she also had cancer, and may have had for a couple of years before it was diagnosed. She died at the age of 46, and the only consolation to that was that she never had to grow old. I would give a lot to see how she would look now, as it comes up to what would have been her 69th birthday.

I too, was proud of my looks and do understand what drives people to retain theirs for as long as possible, but I learnt from my mother that you cannot halt the ravages of time and the best thing to do is accept it with good grace.  Whilst there is no need to let yourself go altogether, there is also no need to work so hard that the fun goes out of life because you are constantly thinking about how you look. We all accept that our minds, ideas and outlook on life change as we get older, so why can't we accept that our bodies will do the same thing? 

Having said all this, it's time for me to go for my monthly eye-brow and lip wax!
Diana Morrison (with my beautiful grandaughter) 2012






Monday, 8 October 2012

Another Story

Sidney Harris and Edith Hind C1937

I've just posted another story, Final Confession, on my fiction pages. I wrote it back in May. It's not one of my best - but see what you think.

The picture is a photograph of my grandparents. The story is not based on theirs.