Saturday, July 19, 2008

PENS!!!!

PENSPENSPENSPENSPENSPENSPENSPENSPENS

I love pens. I lose my black pen in Skye or Edinburgh (or perhaps in between the two) and have been dissatisfied ever since. I finally forked over a pound 50 for two pens that promised to be ‘smooth’, but was sorely disappointed when it turned out to be thick and wet... Okay, but just as dissatisfying as a blue pen. Grr... But then I found a cup full of pens on the bar, and ALL BUT ONE are BLACK!!! GOOD BLACK!!! And one is almost the double of the one I lost.

-swoons-

Yeah, so I’m odd.

Lah.

...That Daring Young Woman Screaming On the Flying Trapeze.

I am now an official Ape. I have the certificate to prove it.

Heh, Blair and I just finished the Go Ape! Experience, doing various heart-dislocating crossings, jumps, and swings through the canopies of huge old tree.

Definitely made this whole Lake District thing worth it. I’m now chilling, listening to music on the way back, trying to ignore my raging nausea in the car.

I’m not sure why I’m so ill: hunger probably, since I haven’t eaten for several hours and the adrenaline during the whole treetops thing kept me from feeling any hunger until now.

Ah, the adrenaline. Ah, the treetops. We had harnesses attaching us to cables the entire winding, up-and-down way, and we were constantly unclipping and reclipping ourselves—very careful, because our lives depended on it—to the various cables everywhere.

Holy cow. Majour random displaced feeling. I just remembered a ‘dream’ I had recently, and by dream I mean alternate reality. Something happened and we had to go home halfway through the trip. It’s so disjointed and mismatched I can’t really explain it (although I’m wondering if it’s the same night as the one with Kell and the Chinese food), but I just remember images, feelings so clearly it feels certain it happened, and I know in the ‘dream world’ days, even weeks passed during that one night of 'sleep'.

Yikes.

And now, I’m waiting for room in the kitchen so I can feed myself.

ERG GET OUT!!!

Bleah. I hate the way Anne takes everything over.

Anyways, the Go Ape thing. It was about three hours long (3 exciting hours) and the two scariest bits were the first zipline (stepping out into open air that first time is a doozy... and you take that step, and bounce on air, moving slowly... and it’s not so bad.. until you speed up and flail and scream because you’re so completely out of control—or feel it), and the Tarzan jump, which was humoungus and terrifying and involved a few seconds of freefall before flying headlong into a rope net, which you then have to climb onto yet another tree-ledge, trusting your life to that harness the entire time.

Yeekazoids.

And the whole thing is designed in ways that don’t harm the trees or impede their growth or even dig into them. And there’s pro-ecological and pro-trees signs everywhere.

And all of this for 25 pounds. Frigging awesome.

Tomorrow is our last day already. And we’ve done nothing blessed nothing for the past couple of days. Tomorrow is Hadrian’s Wall, ancient artefact and such, but I don’t really want to go and I’ve chosen not to. I figure being crushed and stressed in the car all day for something I don’t especially want to see wouldn’t be a good use of my last day. I’d rather take the time to be alone maybe go for a walk, and enjoy the Lake District before we go.

I feel a bit guilty about not having done anything this past week but chill and be bitchy, but I think going tomorrow would just make me bitchier for the days to come.

Lah.

Thursday, July 17, 2008

The Story of Buddy

Let me tell you the story of Buddy. Most children have either had a Buddy or known a friend with Buddy.

Buddy is friendly-looking doll, often with a welcoming smile and big (usually blue) eyes that gaze innocently forward and that attempt to hide the fact that Buddy is PURE EVIL.

You may have heard of a rather well-known cousin of Buddy, Chucky.

Now, nobody truly knows what it is that makes these dolls so evil. Perhaps some, like Chucky, are possessed. Perhaps some are the result of juju, perhaps they have been in the possession of a less-than-stellar-hearted child. But there are a few things that all of these dolls hold in common, whatever teh cause.

The first is the inability to get rid of them. Garage sales, hiding him in closets, throwing him away... somehow he always turns up, grinning as brilliantly as ever, and as sinfully as ever.
Second is the wicked aura. You can't quite place it, but there’s something wrong about him. Something that makes you shiver involuntarily, something that causes dishes to break, people to trip, the dog to bark.

Buddy happens to be Blair and Ross’ evil doll. From before they moved to Ontario he has terrorized them, evading all attempts to dispose of him and spreading his evil charm everywhere. From the time Ross and Blair can remember, he’s been there, and since roughly a week after 5-year old Ross received him as a well-intentioned gift, the two of them have feared him and have been trying to get rid of him.

Even when they most recently moved, he was left behind in the old house only to reappear (ever-smiling) in the spare room.

Blair was explaining Buddy to the Ladies over coffee. Anne was also there, listening with an indulgent smile on her face as Blair expounded the longstanding reign of terror the doll has had over her and her brother. And, as Blair turned to her for confirmation of her description, she exclaimed:

“I thought Ross loved that doll! I’ve been bringing him everywhere and I always make sure to put him on Ross’ bed for when he comes home. Whoops!”

-dies laughing-

Oh my God, no wonder he’s so terrorized every time.

Simple (albeit very longstanding) misunderstanding?

Or has the doll been subtly influencing? Controlling, even?

I’ll let you decide.

Oh, and if your Buddy happens to be a ginger, BURN HIM!!! BURNNNN HIMMMMM!!!!! Don’t even risk it!!!

Lah.

Tuesday, July 15, 2008

The Kava Kava Files, Continued.

Ah, joy. Yet another pub with the exact same selection of food that the last million pubs had. Whee. And it was the very first place at the very edge of the first town we hit, so it's not even GOOD pub food. And of course we're entirely ignored in favour of the two older Ladies. Which is okay, they deserve respect and such, but we're viewed by Anne (and yet not by them) as two silly little children with no say in anything.

Whee.

I really like Joan and Isobel. It's Anne who's pissing me off. She's just become more of everything with her mum around. Stab. Stabstabstabstabstabstabstab.

And she woke me out of a really good dream and a really good sleep by tickling my foot. Which I despise and is possibly one of the worst possible ways to wake ANYONE up. But even though all I wanted to do was kick her in the face, tell her to eff off and go back to sleep, I'm sure she wouldn't have given a crap about either of us being hungry when she got back from shopping and we woke up, so it was come or starve. And I was really hoping for the excellent Chinese food place that’s supposed to be only a mile up from the shitty pub we’re in.

Bah. I’m going home and locking myself up somewhere alone. Please take me with you, I’ll try not to be a nuisance.

The dream I was having was a typically messed up one for me (meaning alternate-reality type), but I was just cuddling Kell when I woke up. I had just gotten back (like three days ago) and hadn’t seen him yet. Michelle randomly dropped him off with three huge bags of Chinese Food (wow, eh? –drools-) and even though I was super happy to see him, there was something up. And we were in the living room with the whole family cuddled watching a movie or something, so I curled in next to him and we were just about to work out whatever the problem was when...

tickletickletickle GOOD MORNING!!!

Anne. Loud, annoying, snide Anne. She must have been a horrible know-it-all as a child and while younger, because she still is now under the guise of age. She can’t take anything that disagrees while her mum’s around she just listens to what you say and tells you ‘that’s nice; you’re wrong.’

I want to eat GOOD FOOD again. And that excludes the crap she cooks. STABSTABSTABSTAB

Pop pop puff puff whee!

Blair has lost her mind and is only barely holding onto the fringes of sanity. If she could, she’d be rolling in the grass giggling manically.

Lah.

Pink is Blair.

Family and Prettiness.

The Lake District. Nothing special and yet, pretty and peaceful. We ended up skipping Lindisfarne (the true home of the cannibalistic monks, not St Mike’s Mount) and came straight here from Rosslyn. We’re sharing the (nice large) cabin with Blair’s Granny and her friend, both of whom I like so far.

The drive was meh as expected, stressful as ever but okay due to my ever-present friend Kava Kava, music, and sleeping. Like I said though, it’s peaceful here, humid and warm. I don’t know if we have any specific purpose in being here: I almost hope not because I just want to chill and avoid people. I’m just so tired, body mind and soul.

We watched The Beach earlier: excellent, excellent, excellent. Leo diCaprio will never be my favourite person but he’ll always be an amazing actor. It was one of those rollercoaster movies, leading you around by your heart. He was CRAZY! Not a heartthrob, CRAZY!!

Luckily, after we turned it off, Life or Something Like It was on, which I haven't seen for years and was just as (or at least had somewhat as much, this late at night) emotion, but with the bonus of knowing there's a happy ending, which I needed. I really needed the happy feel-good shit to chill me out and send me to sleep with, especially since even knowing she lives it's intense.

You know, I'm really lucky to have the people around me in my family. Al the laughter and freedom and happiness, all those moments where we're ourselves and we accept each other. Even Kell and I, we have our problems but in the end we accept one and other complete with faults and I wouldn't trade it.

I think about how much I miss my family now and I think of how much I'll miss them when I'm gone to Van. I wanna make sure the little time in between is as awesome as it gets. And I keep forgetting to include Christian in the family because he tries to be quiet, but it's him too.

All of them... I love them.

Although right now, certain parts of me are informing me the miss a certain aspect of my relations with Kell most.

Heh.

Lah.

Pink is Blair.

Monday, July 14, 2008

The Fayre Rosslyn

Here I sit in Rosslyn. Outside the Chapel but on the grounds, in a tree. It’s very pretty but very busy, and the words on everyone’s lips are “Dan Brown” (with every accent and in every language imaginable), even years later. It’s peaceful here on the grounds; I like it. It gives my tired soul a rest. The chapel is on two intersecting ley lines, apparently... but then they often are.

The inside is absolutely chock-full of awesome carvings. I would never have made them out though if not for the handy pancartes explaining everything.

Goddess bless me and those around me, especially those whom I love and who love me. Grant them love, peace and harmony, strength when it’s needed and that which will give them the best life, and the best life for our relationships.

As I will, so mote it be.

I love you, all of you, and you too Goddess.

Blessed be.

Lah.


Saturday, July 12, 2008

Blair Castle

Blair Castle is very Blair-like compared to all the other ruins and castles we’re seen. If I were allowed to take pictures, the thing I’d most want a picture of would be the bayonet tips formed into the shape of stars around the targes (round shields).

Luckily, Blair Castle took my mind off of the bad things that have been tearing me apart since this morning. Too bad it didn’t really put me in a better mood. It was much better than St Mike’s Mount, but there was no power there other than the power of history. Some rooms had bad vibes; one so yucky that I didn’t even go in. It was big, too, and you get to see most of the rooms. All the furniture, portraits, and tapestries are authentic and roped off for the actual safety of the pieces as opposed to foolishness.

Yay Blair Castle! Messa gonna get married there and you’ll come and take those pictures of the bayonet stars.

Lah.

Pink is Blair.

Taking Our Leave

*sigh* I love this. It’s so pretty here.

We’re on our way out of the Highlands and down South and East to Blair Castle and then to Edinburgh. I’m watching the mist and mountains and streams pass by the windows and all the pretty things while Anne gives up the history of the monarchy and parliament in England. It’s really interesting but if I tried to retain it all my head would probably expode. In fact, I’m surprised her head doesn’t explode from all the history contained in her skull.

Wow, surprisingly few rulers in England have actually been English, as opposed to Welsh, Danish, Scots, etc. Huh.

And we’ll be in Edinburgh for Saturday night! Pubs, clubs, bars! That don’t close at 11! Gods, it’ll be awesome. We’re only in Edinburgh for 2 nights, but hey. Better than Castleton, and still in Scotland! Although not in the highlands, unfortunately. Ah well, at least Blair Castle is, so we’ll have a little more time here.

I really love the Highlands, and the Gaellic language is so pretty, although too harsh for my tongue. Not even harsh, just odd. Ach aye bonny wee lass o’er thar with the heeland coos.

I prefer the ocean in Mullion to the ocean we’ve seen in Skye and Scotland. The staidness of the lochs and inlets and softly lapping waves doesn’t compare to the crashing in Cornwall. Then again, the cliffs don’t beat the misty crystal mountains and streams constantly falling down. Pity that it’s all mild (yay!) but never really hot.

But it’s all gorgeous!

Lah.

Pink is Blair.

Thursday, July 10, 2008

Flying Through the Air With The Greatest of Ease

Whee, what an excellent day!

First of all, yesterday I had the house to myself for the morning, so that chilled me out considerably. Then, on the boat tour we did, I meditated at the loch and asked the goddess to let go of my anger and bitterness.

And I did!

This morn I had a nice long chat with Anne and cleared up a lot of shit, which helped clear my heart as well. We went to Fort William, and finally took the Ferry! It was funky, a huge one like the one Kell and me took to Bowen Island. Oh, and I splurged outrageously and spent 10 pounds on a teeny tank top at an awesome shop next to where the ferry picked us up.

Our trip to Fort William had two purposes: one, Anne found a really nice house and wants to possibly buy it and move here (I love the house and it’s got oodles of property including a barrow on it), so she had to talk to the solicitor about the nitty gritty details.

Two, there’s an awesome hike to these falls in Glen Nevis (Valley of DEATH... or... you know... whatever Nevis means) that involves a cable rope bridge over a river. And when i say ‘cable’, I mean a single cable, with two other cables on either side to hang onto.

It didn’t look too bad. I mean, I expected it to be over like a gorge, not just ten or twenty feet over a river. But that’s still high enough.

I went first. It was AWESOME!!

Yeah, I’m weird. But I loved it. It was only slightly (?!?) terrifying, and just barely that. Then again, I’d spent the hike meditating and charging myself with the elements. Also, there was oodles of quartz sunk into everything. Let’s not forget that the mountains here (unlike the limestone Rockies) are all made of quartz. Uber amplifiers, anyone? I also had a huge chunk I picked up in my bag with me.

So maybe I was a little high on power.

Although the first time the cable started swinging did make me a little nervous until I focused on it to stop.

Typically, even though it was Blair insisting that we go there in the first place, two steps in she started squealing and freaking out and changing her mind. I goaded her halfway across and by then it was too late to change her mind.

Anne couldn’t get onto the cable at all. See, you kinda have to lift yourself up; there’s no step or ladder. So I went back across and helped her by giving her a knee up.

She did well until the cable started shaking and swaying as it always does near the middle, and then she slowed a little.

Then, in the blink of an eye her feet were gone, and she was frozen in midair for a moment—long enough to wonder if she’d hang there by her arms or even fly—then she was falling, the shock on her face almost comical as she broke the surface and sank. The river looked shallow, enough that I wondered whether she’d hurt herself on the rocks, but it was deep enough, about 12 feet from her reckoning.

She swam towards me, gasping ‘cold’ over and over. It was a dark misty, rainy cool day to begin with, and it was after five when we started the over-a-mile hike, so the water must have been freezing. After I helped her ashore she was okay, except for the cold, and we had nothing to give her clothes-wise that would fit.

To make the rest of the long story short, because my fingers are cramped and I’m exhausted, after we’d ascertained her okayness, Blair waded across a shallow part in the river back and stayed with her Mama while I went back again across the bridge and did the final bit to the waterfall, where I meditated a bit more and dunked my head—this was my plan all along but Anne’s fall gave me courage to actually dunk a few times—before rejoining them. Everyone was still in remarkably good spirits, and we all made our three-person-ed way back together, one in front and one in back of Anne to help her back over the steep up-and-down hike.

Luckily, when we got back to the car the electronic car key still worked. And luckily, she had just given me back my camera before she crossed, so only her cheap one got soaked.

Thank god she didn’t bring her uber expensive one!!

I was impressed, overall. The way wasn’t easy, but she made it despite everything, with only the occasional hand up or down and only a single break or two.

And everyone managed to stay happy.

Goddess bless.

Lah.


Tuesday, July 08, 2008

Sheep Roadblock!!

Oh, yay! We’re in the equivalent of the Highlands of Skye. Meaning in the mountains, with the cliffs and waterfalls running over the rocks and uber crystals. Mm, this is the part I love.

You know, idling bugs me. I don’t know whether it’s the waste in gas or the wear on the enrivonment, but it really bugs me and has ever since I started driving. And Anne always idles the car, for whatever reason. Maybe because she’s used to the Prius. I subtly brought it up and she was like “oh yeah I know, I hate it when people idle! I ALWAYS turn my car off.”

-twitches-

I dunno why it bugs me so much more these days than usual. Could be that we’re always in the car and she stops so frequently to read maps and such. Could be just another of those little irritations that blow so much out of proportion because I’m so utterly sick of her presence... like her constant (awkward, uncomfortable) laughter or a million other tiny insignificant things.
I’ve admitted their true insignificance to myself, but they continue to get to me, so my new technique is turning up my music and tuning it all out.

It’s the only way to preserve my sanity for the next few weeks. Still a month to go.

Everything’s got a price. And maybe it’s some sort of sign that as I write this, the two last times she stopped, she turned off the car immediately both times.

Yay!!!

This is what I’ve been reduced to.

Lah.

Pink is Blair.

Monday, July 07, 2008

Fred

We just passed a school zone sign that’s been knocked over. Bad sign.

We’re on our way to civilisation. Kinda. We already tried the nearest town and it only has a post office, bar, and a general store... that’s it.

So off we go on a half-hour drive to the next closest. STAB.

The sheep here are strange looking. And apparently the Highland Cows (Heeland coos) looked crossed with sheep and have horns, although I’ve yet to see one.

We’ve got a pet, of sorts. The aldy told us there’s a friendly pig that comes to visit. “Awesome!!” I thought. Then, Fred showed up.

You know the pig you think of when someone talks of a huge disgusting pig? That’s Fred.

Humoungus, hairy, filthy, and smelly, with an enormous upturned snout. The kind I would imagine that pig farmer in BC fed those butchered whores too. Very Lord of the Flies.

Yummy.

I’d prolly like him better if her weren’t so dirty and smelly.

And how’d we end up in the part of Skye/Scotland that looks less like pretty green BC and more like Alberta if Ab had more rain? I mean, we’re passing gorgeous places (although I still don’t think it’s as pretty as the mainland), yet where we’re staying is all long yellow grass and such.

Lah.

Pink is Blair.

Saturday, July 05, 2008

The Isolation of Skye.

Well, Skye’s out in the middle of nowhere, which I expected. What I didn’t expect is how far we are from even the civilisation in Skye.

Four miles. That’s how far the closest ANYTHING is: pub, store, PERSON (with the exception of the occasional farm or old person). And although Anne misled us with the hole thing, she can’t understand why we’re pissed and insisted we talk it out and try to resolve it. But see, there’s no ‘resolving it’, at this point: what’s done is done. And trying to justify it is admirable, but she doesn’t understand and getting in my face with me trying to explain (which I suck at, incidentally, unless I have time to think and write) just frustrated me and pisses me off.

Especially since she still continues to judge and tries to tell you what’s wrong with you while ignoring anything that’s wrong with her.

The two of us and her are just on two completely different levels.

So I took another Kava Kava and came out here to get away, think, and (it seems) cry.

I don’t know what I want, apart from people I know and can relate to, emphasis on the latter. People OTHER than Blair and Anne. I’m sick of their company but sick of my own too. If last week was the week in London or Edinburgh and really busy, then I’d love it here to recuperate and chill and be alone. But it wasn’t. It was spent with nobody except those two, and that’s how this week’ll be too. A big nothing. Can’t evem go to the beach or swim, here. I’m bored, lonely, and worst of all I DONT KNOW WHAT I WANT, only that it’s NOT THIS.

I need males. Pot. Not as a crutch but as a habit I enjoy. Mama mentioned once that people like us smoke because it helps us relate to people without being overcome by them. Like a different kind of shield.

Not to mention in situations like this it really helps one relax and wile away the empty hours. I just spent two days in a car doing nothing. I’m bord now because I’ve been at a lack of things to do for a while, and now that I’m free there’s nothing more to do.

Anne said snidely that I like to run.

Great way to describe her, snide.

I wanted to stab her.

Maybe so, but I’m aware of it and have my own ways of dealing with problems. When it’s something that’s my own problem that I need to work through, like this, I need to be alone and think and chill. Trying to explain this to her while she makes a snide comment (meaning judgment) at the end of every sentence I speak and yet still manages not to understand just makes me want to stab her more.

For all her supposed wisdom, she understands teenagers absolutely zero. She tried to use herself as a measuring stick for everyone. She doesn’t get that we’re not just different people, teens are literally a different species. We think differently and react differently.

We’re not just mini-adults all the time. We’re teens. Not just immature, DIFFERENT.

Stab stab stab stab.

And no relief by internet or even phone.

I want to smash my head against a tree until it’s bloody. You’d break the tree with your face.

Whew. I feel better slightly, having vomited all that out.

Lah.

Pink is Blair.

Scotland!

Wow. Scotland.

If Mullion was pretty, this is stupendous. We’re surrounded by… Not mountains exactly but huge rolling hills. Everything is painted in shades of green, and even the pines and other conifers are all bright pretty green, not the drab colour I’m used to in Canada. And the lakes--lochs?--sparkle grey-blue. It just goes on forever, gorgeous and barely touched by the harsh fingers of man. The road(s) are swallowed by the vastness of the beauty.

Apparently, the population use to be 5x even what it is today, b4 they all got chucked out by the lowland Scots and the English.

And here we are in Glencoe. For a place so untouched by man, it’s got a pretty long bloody history. Guess the Mother takes it all back in the end, regardless of the winners.

Oooh, a sithen!

I love it here, and I mean I LOVE it here. It actually reminds me of BC, but MORE and more untouched.

That could be Ysanne’s cottage by the lake. Mm, smell the loveliness and the rain.

Wow, look at those waterfalls. They look so clear and tiny, just a trickle, but I have a feeling distances can be deceiving here. And everything is misty. If I could, I’d be sticking my head out the window like a dog with my tongue lolling out.

Oooh, I like the poofy-looking cotonny plant things!

Remind me to put out food for the fae. We forgot the plate out with the Faeries… <3

Lah.

Bah.

Make them go away.

Can’t I trade something/someone?

I’m lonely. Or maybe not lonely enough.

Just everyone leave me alone tomorrow, okay?

LEAVE ME ALONE.

Lah.

Party Up In Castleton

Woo. Finally, an awesome night!

Until we got home, of course. When we got home, we discovered that Anne had closed the window with the username and password for the internet we paid for. Which we couldn’t access again without putting in.
This is where the Kava Kava really started a-popping

And she decided she didn’t want to pay for the internet we needed to access it. ‘Maybe in the morning’. When we would have lost all the time we already paid for. So we had to pay again.

Yay for bitches. STAB. Good thing Blair ended up getting refunded for that extra payment.

But anyways. Went pub crawling. Met actual PEOPLE OUR OWN AGE!! And then spent a few hours chilling with a couple we embarrassingly met in the loo. Ahem.

Then, when we were preparing to go home, we met a whole bunch of guys (one who’d been hitting on Blair for hours) and all but one were complete dicks.
EW barf ew I thought he was going to puke on me, or I was gonna puke on him.

He offered to buy us a drink, but all the pubs closed at 11 (WHY?!?!?!?!?!) except a couple (meaning ONE, the one we’d been in for hours). And eventually his dumb drunk friends caught up with us, and made the mistake of calling Blair a prostitute.

Whee. Drama.

And speaking of Drama, the 1st set of friends we’d made were all on about this chick Meghan, who slept with someone else’s boyfriend and got blamed for everything, although I think the boyfriend was just as much to blame and a complete retard besides.

Anyways. Second set of friends were early 30s and out on vaycay from 2 kids. Awkward meeting (for Blair) but awesome drunken convos. Got their emails, too.

And as for the third set, the nice one got a kiss on the cheek (and he wanted wayyy more), a lick on the face (deprived of human contact, *TWITCH*) and a kiss on the lips from both of us (at some point, not both at once).

And in return we got we got what was left of a pint of beer thrown on us by his jealous asshole drunk friend. Well, mostly on Blair, or at least more than on me.

If only we had such nights every night, instead of isolation!! Personally, I think the whole internet thing was psychological revenge for us having fun. Especially since she waited up for us.

Woo.

Erg. Hiccups.

Erg. Litre of water in one go. Ima be ill again.

The Castle Inn is pretty and awesome, though. And if we were staying a couple more hours, I could have gotten something to smoke. Bleah. Even 10 AM, instead of leaving at 8, and it would be mine!! But poo.

And up to £140 an O. Damnnn, skippy.

But I don’t care. It’d be worth it.

I foresee Kava Kava in my future tomorrow.

Lah.

Pink is Blair.

Friday, July 04, 2008

The Mad Sheep

We’re finally almost there. What was supposed to be a 5-6 hour trip turned out to be (so far) an 8 ½ hour trip. I was reading Christopher Moore out loud before, entertaining both Blair and Anne (and myself: I love reading aloud) but then we hit roundabouts and I had to shut up so Anne could hear the Nuvi. We came out of town onto a bunch of 10-mile stretches of empty road, but she wouldn’t let me keep reading.

Guess Mr. Moore’s just too interesting with his gas-tanker-loving sea monsters…

My ass hurts.

We just passed some of Anne’s old stomping grounds from her university days. How boring, no drinking, drugs or sex under the railways and aqueducts. In fact, very little drinking or sex at all.

Psh.

Then again, I’m not intending to do oodles of drinking in Uni myself. But I intend to make up for it with the other ones. In mild quantities, of course.

Whee! Here we are, in Castleton.
Civilisation! Guys our age, and good-looking to boot! Yay!!

--
We passed by many caves on the way in, and many spray-painted sheep.

Kinda makes you think that a sheep could get lost in said caves, with the ‘baa’ magnifying to gargantuan proportions until a simple sheep became a horribly terrifying monster that terrorized tourists and locals alike.

You would hear it approaching, coming closer and closer, as you tried to avoid quaking in terror despite yourself. And as you wonder whether to give into fear and turn and run, the terrible cry of the monster is almost unbearable. You’re about to say ‘fuck bravery, I’m out!’ when from around the corner comes the beast, bringing you face to face with your fear:

A tiny little lamb, bleating in fear itself as it looks around for its mama.

Teehee.
Vive les Moutons!!

-sighs with pleasure-

Finally. Fooooooood. And my bladder no longer requires a gargantuan amount of concentration to keep under control. I’m full, and not full of pee!

Fyah…
Hah, I miss Kai.

G'Bye Mullion

G’bye, Mullion.

Off to Castleton. This morn, I said goodbye to the cliffs and my sanity. Packing and going wasn’t nearly as smooth and easy as Avebury was, probably partially because we didn’t get fed first. And still haven’t.

Pop, pop! Goes the Kava kava. For Blair this time, not me.

Oh yeah, and I’m ill. Throat thick and sore, even more phlegm-y than usual. Whee. I tried to choke it with
Citric Acid and water this morning, but who knows?

Ska is my best friend.

WHEN ARE WE GONNA STOP?!?

I’m starving. Starting to feel the symptoms, whee. And I have to pee. Erg. All that orange juice and water probably not such a good idea, I guess.

OMG!! A car with three wheels!! Driving…. o.O

Thursday, July 03, 2008

Yay For Postcards!

So, up we climbed to the castle. Well, first we had to cross to the island it's on. We walked across a causeway on a reef to get there. Luckily, it was low tide, because it was obvious that causeway wouldn't be there at high tide, and if we were on the other side we'd be stranded at the abbey with cannibalistic monks.

After we arrived on the 'island' was when we started to climb.

Again.

This trip seems to involve an inordinate amount of stairs and climbing. But hey, tis exercise!

The walk up the pilgrim steps and up the rest was pretty. There was a Giant's Well, where if you open it you can still see the Giant's wife's eye. Which we didn't test because I didn't read about that until after we left. Apparently, she's under the island.

o.O

Anyways, the view form the top where the castle itself is was cool. GOing inside, it quite franklu sucked. Everything was fake and display-like. I guess there's a family that still lives there (minus the servants and prestige of ye old days), although they share it with the National Trust (who seems to own every historical site). I took pictures and was severely chastised by a tourist "guard".

One of the only places of note in the castle-thing was the church, which despite my shields had me almost in tears after barely 5 minutes. But there was power there (obviously). There was one statue of St Michael slaying a demon that hit me, though whether good, bad, sad, or just the Christian-ness of it all, I don't know.

Barf on the fake-ness of the mount. The energy of the ley line had been sucked out by the updated tourist-yness of it. No longer a great abbey of power and energy, now just a tourist amusement park without the rollercoasters.

So true.

Also, a random spot or two where there was uber energy, but again ambigious. The again, energy itself isn't positive or negative, it's the intentions with it. Still, it didn't feel like pure energy. It left me... uneasy.

From the outside of the abbey, on one of the towers, we could see the causeway, not just barely underwater. Bu the time we finished the rest, it was more that 'barely', and we were forced to pay to boat back. Or stay and be eaten bu the cannibalistic moks.

Although after actually seeing the place, I'd be more afraid of the tourist guards.

After we got back to shore, we clambered back into the car and starved our way back home.

<3>

Lah.

Positive Programming for Your Soul.

Positive Vibration, yeah.
positif!
(gotta have a good vibe)
Jah Love, Jah Love, protect us!

We're on our way to Mont St Michel, and I'm listening to ska. And we're passing by the airfield/military base/Cornish answer to Area 51, with the double barbed wire topping the 15-foot fence.

And pump that pussy.

I love the rain here. Blue skies and sun and still it rains. And the rain is warm!

AHA!!! IT IS A CASTLE!!!

Sorry, but several miles back I saw a castle in the distance and did a double take, only for it to haev disappeared. Every time we came to a gapin the bushes, I looked but couldn't see it, so finally I gave it up for lost.

NOT SO! I just saw it again, larger than life (or perhaps the same size as)! And as it turns out, it not only exits, it's St Michael's Mount, our destination.

Cool.

Lah.

Wednesday, July 02, 2008

Uber Waves

Lah!!

Well, we didn't make it to St Michael's Mount yesterday, and by 'didn't make it' I mean everyone slept in and then we were too lazy. So, tomorrow it is. And tomorrow happens to be our last day in Mullion. Friday, we take off for Castleton overnight and then Skye!

I made use of the day to do all the things I had intended for tomorrow. Me and Blair walked down to Poldhu Cove, where the beach was very wide and the sand was pebbly. The waves there were surfing waves, large and foamy and crashing down onto the shore. The tide was coming in; an amazing thing to see. We stood with the waves cresting ten feet in front of us and the foamy surf lapping at our feet.

Some surfers (the closest thing to cute young males we've seen yet) ran by us and didn't even spare a glance at us before wading out to sea; watching them go headfirst through the waves to continue out to sea was something that invoked mild awe and respect for their slight insanity.

One surprise mother wave came crashing into shore far past where the other ones barely touched our ankles, to soak my skirt past my knees and continue all the way up to the rocks I'd prudently placed my stuff on top of. It soaked a chick lying where she'd thought would be out of reach of the water.

Teehee, it was AWESOME!!

After that, we moved our stuff even higher on the rocks, and stripped down to bras and undies. I held my scarf-skirt behind me to billow in the wind like a cape, trying to dry it as much as possible.

I watched the waves crash again and again, so close and yet so far. The power of them was insanely strong and beautiful.

Finally, it was time to get wet. The waves were getting more powerful as the tide moved in, closely followed by what promised to be quite the storm. I saw waves flying towards me and waded in, running towards the more powerful side, watching it crest, break, and come roaring towards me. I willed them to break again against me and send spray up in a geyser, nearly knocking me over with the force of it.

There aren't really words to describe the feeling of watching those huge waves coming straight for you. The fear, excitement, helplessness, and sheer power. Wanting to be part of the wave. Surrendering to it.

I've seen huge waves before, been on beaches, but never stood on a beach to watch one come for me. Each time was terrifying and made me want more, even as I stumbled to keep my balance.

The last time, I was so far in the in that the wave itself hit me, not just the rushing aftermath. It hit me on the dry(ish) beach waist-, maybe chest-high, pushed me almost fully down with the force of it, and soaked me head to toe. I can still brush salt from my eyebrows, hours later.

That's when I (we) surrendered to the rainclouds and gathered our things, and started clambering back up the steep steps cut into the hill and back down the path towards home, shivering. Blair was also soaked, having dunked her dreads before me, but not quite so extensively.

It was raining by the time we hit the path.

Speaking of hair, I hennaed my hair orange this morn. Well, "copper", but seeing how my hair was blond to begin with instead of dark brown, orange was what I expected and received. Gorgeous dark orange that I@m very fond of, partially because it's strangely natural-looking. The henna deep-conditioned my hair too, making it shine beautifully

YAY!

Lah.

We also hit the chocolate shop and the hotel for computer-ness. I spoke to Kai and Mama and Savvy, and learned that Kell's on his way to Sasketchewan.

Anyways, I'm exhausted and it's early-ish up tomorrow so me go try and sleep. Gnight.

Tuesday, July 01, 2008

Canada Day and a Theatre by the Sea.

Yay, Canada!! Happy Canada day!!

In honour of the country I love, I dressed up all in red and white, and Blair and I covered ourselves in Canada stickers and went to steal toilet paper and internet from the fancy hotel next door.

Unfortunately, there our plans went wrong. I had TP duty but couldn't get the cover off the dispenser to grab the roll, and so was forced to just unravel sheet after sheet into my bag. Meanwhile, Blair's laptop was still refusing to connect to any wireless network.

Luckily, there's a complimentary compie for guests to chekc their email and such on. How convenient!! Despite my not being a guest, nobody questioned our presence.

Upon signing onto my email, I learned that a war has been going on in my absence, between Fil and Kai. And what a war!

Kai, Kai, rah rah rah!!!

He's awesome!!

I was a big part of this war, it seems, absence notwithstanding. And both Mama and Kai have been fighting on my behalf, but mostly Kai.

I have such an awesome brother.

And Mama, whom I messaged, kept assuring me not to worry about Lord Doofus (my name, not hers).

Worry? Why should I, of all of us, care about him? I'm away for over a month yet, and moving immediately after I get back. I'm more worried about Kai and Mum; some of the shit he said in his last angry email was harsh, although so utterly ridiculous as to be be hilarious.

Anyways, speaking of moving, I GOT MY FUNDING!!!!!

-does happy dance-

That cuts the last tie that I'd need him for. Although I could still sue him for tuition if I chose, according to Anne. But "how will I pay" is no longer hanging at the edge of my thoughts, thank the goddess. Faith only goes so far.

Actually, that's not true. Faith does go that far. But the mundane world crashes in every once in a while.

Back to here: two other things of import happened today: the first, a heated discussion with Anne. Now, these happen quite regularly, and are pleasing to both of us, but today's was more vehement than most.

See, we were trying to explain two different things to each other from two different points of view. So, understandably, we both got frustrated. Now, normally I'd be like whatever, move on, but a chord struck deep.

It all started with her askimg whether Mama and Brian were just friends, or friends with benefits. She always wants to know a lot about Mama because I think she sees a lot of Mama in her and her in Mama and wants to know as much as possible, if that makes sense.

Now, I replied that I didn't really know and didn't really care enough to know. This led to her asking why I didn't want to know, and why wouldn't I want to know about Mama's sex life? To me, the whole situation with Mama and Brian isn't me actively evading the knowledge, it's just not inquiring further about the information since neither of them have chosen to volunteer it.

The problem lay more in what came next. See, she believes that to be close to someone is to share every detail about one's life with them, and as the other person you should want to know. No secrets, because to her that equals hiding something which equals lying which equals hurt. Her own personal issues, thanks to her history with her own Lord Doofus. Now, I definitely don't agree with this philosophy. There are some things that are private because they lose something in the sharing, and some things that just plain aren't your business. I, of course, told her this.

Then she continued the discussion by asking how I think this point of view (mine) affects my writing, since she also believes the same thing of writing. This is where things got personal and emotional for me, because writing is my passion and I know I'm an excellent writer. I snidely wanted to point out that her point of view is probably why she's not a good writer, but since I haven't read her writing and was feeling nasty, I kept it to myself. I tried instead to explain that in writing a novel, you're guiding the reader towards certain emotions, realizations and thoughts, and to do so you can't just give them all the info at once; you have to choose which things you divulge in order to further that.

Then she said nothing personal, but someone who did that was no different than a politician or anyone else looking to manipulate someone to their own devious ends. Implying (to me) that I was looking hurt those other people.

Woah, Skippy. Hold the phone. Don't take it personally? Part of me understood we had two different kinds of writing and manipulation in mind, that she had self-admitted issues about what she percieved as 'keeping secrets', even as author-to-reader. But still.

It didn't help that I've learned that absolutely everything has to have deeper meaning to her. 'Why didn't Dakota/Colleen/Mama participate more in pole dancing? That Colleen and Dakota physically couldn't, she accepted with difficulty. And Mama? She decided that having planned and paid for it, she had earned the right to sit out and watch after a round or two.

But no. There has to be more to it. WHO CARES IF THERES MORE TO IT, THAT WAS ENOUGH OF AN EXPLANATION FOR ME!

"So then I have to ask, what do you think she's afraid of?"

I. Am. So. Fucking. Sick. Of. Her. Questions.

Judgments, even. Because even though they're for her own curiousity, I want to sew her mouth shut sometimes.

Everything has to be read deeper into, and all her thoughts are assertions. You're required to defend everything like a thesis to convince her she's wrong. She'll accept a new idea, fine, but you have to back it up extremely thoroughly. Which often pushes me to become--surprise!--defensive.

I feel bad
(don't be!) about getting so pissed off at her because she's a good person at heart and has done a lot for me, so I've been suppressing these thoughts until they could come spilling out onto paper, if not spilling out with perfect clarity.

God save me from professors. And let's not forget that she often mistakes trusting her first instinct with trusting her first thought. Two very different things indeed.

But enough about her. I could keep bitching all night, but then my fingers would be too cramped to write about the Minack Theatre and Jason, the play we saw there.

The Minack is an outdoor theatre built in the 1920s into the edge of a cliff overlooking the ocean. Totally awesome, and the acoustics were amazing, although by the end of the night, I was wearing 4 layers and a blanket just to keep warm. the damp had also set into my joints so that I could barely walk, and now everytime I sniffle, the mucous tastes of salt.

Cool play, too. It consisted of 2 men and 3 women playing every role of the classic (ish) greek tragedy with a comedic twist. y first encounter with Jason was when he heroically made his entrance with one leg propped up on the row above me, conveniently placing his nether regions in my face, around eye-level 6 inches away. His toga ended above his knees when he was standing normally, so let's not even talk about the heights it achieved hiked up like that.

We were sitting like third row from the stage, near the end. The seats were quite literally hewn from the cliffside. The higher ones were long benches with grass cleverly grown on them for padding (ish), but down where we were, we actually had individually carved seats (kinda).

The play itself was fairly funny (and supremely weird in that way that only the Brits have), with added creepiness and much confusion. And it continued to be funny until the last bit, where the tragedy suddenly kicks in and takes over the humour completely. It ends with Medea killing her twin babies as she does in the real tragedy of the that name.
Oh, and let's not forget taking out of the holy water the red-soaked cloths that represented her babies AND LOOKED LIKE INTESTINES!!!

Whee.

Oh, and there were amazing and strange plants growing all around there, all huge and all indescribable. I tried to take pickies to express the things that for once, words can't.

Blessed be.

Pink is Blair.

Lah.

Monday, June 30, 2008

Sand Escape

Here we are, at Kynance Cove, lying on on the beach. I just finished my time in the ocean, body-checking waves and getting pummelled in return. The water's too sandy though, and too full of seaweed for me to fully enjoy the water or swimming.

Anne's sitting in the shade on the Serpentine rocks, watching the waves and us. Blair's a couple of feet away, sitting inside the moat and wall of sand she built. And I'm lying here on my rainbow-coloured sarong, with the sun kissing my skin and a faint taste of salt on my lips.

I love sarongs. Skirt, shirt, sweater, curtain, hair covering... the list goes on. And on a beach, they're much better to lie on than a towel since they're big, thin, and don't catch and keep sand the way towels do.

I have a pet peeve about sand in my orifices, especially without a clear ocean to dunk it off in. My "dunk" earlier has me covered in seaweed. I even found some between the extra material in the crotch of my bathing suit and the bikini itself.

But I'm happy, and my jewelry, hair, skin, and soul all loved the water. I ran in and let the waves dunk me, then faced them full on and jumped into them as they crested and broke and slammed against me. It was as if we were two drunk frat boys going UNH and banging their chests into each other.

Heh.

Well, maybe not the best analogy, but you get the idea. Companionship and joy that need to be expressed physically. And now, a constant shower of sand from my dried hair, and a constant retreat from the encroaching shade as the sun lowers beneath the huge rocks surrounding us. A retreat both for us and for the lowering tide.

And there's no hiding from the sand.

It always amazes me how quickly the tide goes in and out. Each wave is further out or in than the last, the movement unstoppable. And then there's the knowledge that the same ovean is breaking on shores all over the worls, and my tough of the water here will eventually touch someone in Van, Quebec, Barbados, Jamaica.

People are clearing out now. Towels are being folded and rolled, and children (including hopefully the little demon child who kicked sand at me) are being collected and led away. The shadows are moving faster than the tide, and already we're lying on a damp beach from our retreat into the tides.

Soon, we'll be forced into an area where the waves will lap at our feet, and soon after that it'll be a choice to lie in the waves or finally leave.

But I'm ready to leave if need be. It's been a nice communion.

Muah, my love. I'll be back.

Lah.

Saturday, June 28, 2008

Mullion

And now I sit by the harbour, listening to the waves break.

Ah, Mullion.

What a beautiful view, gorgeous cliffs, and a permanent mist over the green green cliffs. The humidity in the air caresses my skin, and the salt in the air touches my eyes, not enough to stink but enough that I can feel it.

Ah, Goddess.

Lah.

The Mists of Avalon.

Glory, glory, glory
Beauty and power.
Here I sit, on Glstonbury Tor.
Glory Love and Marvelousness.
Beauty and power.

We arrived in Glastonbury proper--the festival is technically in Pilton, but I guess that doesn't sound as pretty--and weren't even gonna go up to the Tor (which is how I had consoled myself about the festival)!!

Although it seemed like quite the walk so I don't blame Anne for wanting to do it herself. I really wanted to though, and was much gratified when Blair agreed.

So the two of us climbed the Tor, step by step.

It sucked, but not nearly so bad as I thought it would from the distance, and not even as bad as Wreck beach in Van.

I'm also amazed at what good shap I'm in. Blair was dead but determined halfway up, and I only started to wheeze on the last stretch.

--

Yeah, yeah. I get it. Sometimes, Anne's theories of everything get irritating. Yes, I understand you're suppoesd to do everything with love and your full attention, even eating, but I don't need to hear it explained 4 million times what I already know as if it's an enormous new concept being explained to a schoolchild.

But I smiled and nodded. Anne's been good to us.

--

Anyways, I was talking about Glastonbury Tor.

When we got to the top, we were well rewarded for our efforts. The biew was entrancing,a nd I took a million and 2 pictures. The tower at the top was very tall, but not very big or wide. Just an open room with two arches on either side. I wonder how it was when they built it. Apparently, they originally built the thingie to St Michael, the dragon--meaning pagan--slayer Saint, as an "I am Christian, hear me roar, pagan scum!" monument, since the Tor was the site for oofles of rituals back in the day. It's on the St Michaels ley line, too. It's also a triangle with Stonehenge and Avebury.

We were gonna go to Stonehenge but since we forgot yesterday and you can't het close anyways, we all agreed to skip it. Part of me really wanted to see it since it's such a famous site, but the rest said to leave it in favour of other things and that it wouldn't be worth it, so I abandoned the potential bragging rights and voted for skipping it.

Back to the Tor again.

So, because you can never really give a "fuck you" to Mother Nature without eventual retribution, the tower was soon hopelessly destroyed in an Earthquake.

So they rebuilt it.

And then, I believe something else happened to it (a fire..?) leaving it the (albeit impressive) ruin it is today.

But wahtever the original purpose, it's on Earth's side now. Stepping into the archway to go inside, the wind slammed into my back, whipping my scarf around me and billowing into my clothers. There's real power in that wind, oodles of it, and it (the wind) stops immediately when you take even one more step.

But for that instant, framed against the arch, the wind fills you.

While Blair caught her breath and did whatever inside the thingie, I chose to go lay on the hill and absorb, catch my breath. I found the hill itself cooler than the abbey-thing. The view by itself is incredible; all of Glastonbury's visible. I'm sure if I looked hard enough, I could see the festival from there.

And then there was the ever-present hum.

You know, they say there's most likely a spiral maze inside the Tor. There are definitely many tunnels underneath, and people have been known to disappear and turn up in them, although since all the tennuls are closed at this point in time, I can't imagine that turning out too well these days.

As for all the Arthurian stuff, I don't know and don't really care. That place was there long before him and'll be there long after even the memory of him is gone.

I do wish I could see it as it was before the buildings and the grass, when it was an island called Avalon. It was misty over the Tor when we arrived, but by the time we started climbing it was all burned off by the sun.

Land between living and dead it may be, but in bright sunlight the effect just isn't quite the same.

Lah.

What Might Have Been.

OH. MY. GOD.

I HAVE NEVER SEEN SO MANY HIPPIES IN MY LIFE!!!

The Glastonbury festival in the biggest such festival on Earth, bigger than Woodstock was, with a band list that took up an entire sheet of paper in size 6 font.

And it's on right now!! Less than a mile away!! The hill was absolutely COVERED in tents and rainbow colours and hippies and music!!

And we're not going.

-cries-

We just drove by and had to settle for waving at the people we passed.

"Too expensive for just a day. Most people go for the whole 3-ish days... and we just don't have time."

DONT HAVE TIME?!? I would have taken off half the week in Mullion to go, paid my own way too. CHANCE OF A LIFETIME, ANYONE?!?

-cries again-

And pot... I could have gotten pot...

Lah.

Children Left Unattended Will Be Sold as Slaves.

So, the pub we ended up going to (in the NEXT VILLAGE) turned out to be excellent. And entertaining.

And now it's morning, and we're on our way to Glastonbury!

Checkout this morning consisted of brekkie made by the awesome dude who lugged our luggage up the steep flight of stairs when we first arrived (and who owns the place with his wife), giving back keys to the same awesome dude , putting shit in the car, and having a fag. Easy and painless. And we finally got the voice working on the Nubi, whish Anne seems more inclined to listen to than us. Or maybe our way today is just more straightforward.

I guess we'll see!

Blair surfed the net last night, but the moment I got on it, it stopped working. Or maybe she got off of it because it stopped working, and neglected to mention it.

Whatever; either way, we didn't check this morning and the woman was telling us the cottage we're going to next has "one of them fancy V-something-Esses that plays those cassettes!" And "a gameboy that plugs into the TV!!" for if we get bored.

Somehow, I doubt there'll be internet there.

Ah, well!

Lah.

Friday, June 27, 2008

With the Bad.

Woo.

I'm freezing, starving, and exhausted. And vaguely irritated, due to all three and Anne's bossiness and Blair's Blair-ness.

See, Anne doesn't trust technology. So although she gets me to locate us frequently on the handy Nuvi (GPS), she just as frequently doubts it and ignores its directions. It doesn't help that the Nuvi is often confusing--because the UK itself is confusing, with tiny roads, stunted cars, a definitive lack of traffic lights and a surplus of tiny traffic circles to replace them.

She also decided that instead of eating in Bath, where we just came from, we should drive allllll the way back to Avebury instead. Which proves that she doesn't know teens too well.

And of course, she's way too hot because we were walking around quite a bit and so she needs the freezing cold air turned on full blast.

So here Blair and I sit, bitchy and hungry, with Blair occasionally throwing out doubtful comments about the road/direction we're going in, making we want to throttle (or maybe eat) her, since it's hard enough to get Anne to follow directions spawned by the Nuvi, even if they've already been cross-referenced to the physical map (which she insists on, usually).

Pop goes the Kava Kava!

Oh, and Blair talked me into buying a PVC bustier that fits like a glove, for the low, low price of £40.

Bitch.

--

...Aaaaand all the tables at the pub we drove all this way for are completely booked, since it's Friday night and we didn't call ahead.

On to the next village.

Whee.

Oh, well.

Lah.

Shaved trees and such.

West Kennett Long Barrow is one huge ridge with enormous underground burial chambers (although they were sealed permanently and purposefully 4000 years ago). And oak tree with prayer ribbons who gave me a leaf, and a huge Sycamore tree I sat in and who also gave me a leaf.

And then there were the stones. The amazing, amazing stones. They're big and gorgeous and surrounded bya ditch, that was originally a gorge with a big chalk wall around, grown over now, but the path is still set in it.

Anne is all about "why?", but I think that she needs to understand that sometimes, it doesn't matter. Her deduction is that the entire thing is an amplifier (which it definitely isS), with the stones as antennae. I agree, although it wasn't until I walked up the chalk hill path that it hit me with a wave of humming power. Those walls are amping it out, not in.

I kissed the stones, gave and asked my blessings, and in some cases, just said hello. Each one was different, although I don't think they are people, as such. They did have very individual personalities, though. One was so friendly I hugged him. Another, I touched my nose to and put up shields with, and used it to link into the ground. That one blessed me with a drop of water.

And then there was the center, with the Grandmammy and Daddy, off to the side watching over them.

It felt like everything in the fields of Avebury was deliberately places, every tree and bush. I wonder how old some of them are, how the humoungous trees must have once been babies, and I wonder which ancient trees have lived and gone in the lifetime of the stones. How aware these stones must be!

And lying on ley lines, to boot. Walking up to the barrow to the tomb, there was an exact line where I felt it. I looked up, and I could see the first stone of the tomb just over the crest of the hill. On the way back, I suddenly looked up again and turned, and it was the same spot.

Silbury hill we saw from a distance, particularly from the Barrow. It's a huge man-made hill where I think some important dead dude was buried. It just looks like a random hill in the middle of lots of fields, and it doesn't feel uber the way some of the other stuff. It's just always there. And then, when we drove right next to it, I looked out the window to see the wind whispering through the grass, and there was somethingthere. Something in the wind, in the grass, in the whispers.

I wish I could go walk up there and Listen. But the Head Druid apparently recently decreed that nobody can go up there anymore, just admire from a distance. If I were on my own or only with a partner in crime, I'd totally sneak up there.

And all the green growing things, the dampness in the air, the misty beauty of it all... I love it! Avebury would have been worht the trip alone (and we're only a day or two into the 6 weeks), but even just the atmosphere is amazing, seeing and realizing that North America is only part of the world, and a very small part at that. I mean, it's one thing to know, it's another thing to ecperience and discover.

Oooh, shaved trees!!

Sorry, we're driving to Bath right now, and there are oodles of bushy trees on either side of the country roads here. They've a very curious look to them, because only at the tops do they spill out over the road. Why? Because they're shaved!!

Lah.

PS. In case you haven't noticed, I'm posting my retroactive journal entries .

Thursday, June 26, 2008

Rings and Roses

Holy cow.

First of all, almost a year has passed since my last entry. And so many things have happened that, as usual, it's impossible to catch up.

So let's skip to tonight, at this moment.

I just came in from having a cigarette outside of a beautiful B&B in East Kennett, UK. It's just after 11 pm, and there's a soft rain falling outside, coating the entire British countryside with a layer of mist and the smell of damp night flowers blooming. Everything feels old and powerful, and gorgeous. Avebury, where I am, is the home of the largest collection of standing stones (think Stonehenge, but spread out over many fields and acres) in Europe. The stones are maybe a 20-minute walk from where we're staying, and the ancient power of the place coats the air more surely than the rain. My spirit is humming with gentle vibrations, and Marley is playing quietly in the background.

So imagine my surprise when Blair discovered that this place is equipped with wireless internet. Even though it's only our first day here, it feels like we've been here forever and Calgary is just a vague memory. I look at the clock and realize that it's only just after 4 pm back home, and the thought blows my mind.

I think I'll keep an update on my blog of this amazing journey through the UK, whenever I get the chance to get online, which I somehow don't think will be a priority for these first couple of weeks.

There are no words, no matter how carefully chosen, that can explain this place. Not just this place in Britain where I am, but the place I'm at in my heart and soul right now, the journey that I'm taking. I had about two days warning that I was coming, and to actually be lying here in this bed, looking across the narrow street at the small field that's the parking lot, or at the thatched roofs of some of the ancient homes around here, is unbelievable.

And let's not forget Avebury Henge. Whew. We've only driven around to explore, since we only got here a few hours ago, but the entire thing is amazing. Even the space it canvasses is amazing. It's not one location, seen from a distance, the way Stonehenge is (and Stonehenge is only a little ways away), it's all around us, spread out and open to anyone to walk through and experience. It permeates the air. Or maybe that's the spirits of the thousands (!!) of buried warriors under the rolling hills and lands in this area.

Well, I should probably head off to bed. I haven't really slept in the past few days, what with the hectickness of everything before stepping foot on the plane, and I have a good English breakfast waiting for me in the morning, and a day of exploring places so old and rooted in the land that I can't even really comprehend it, just feel it and soak it in. One more night here, then off to Cornwall.

Thank you Goddess, for giving me this oppurtunity and putting this journey into my life's path.

Thank you Mama and all my family and loves, for helping make it happen.

Thank you Anne and Blair, for bringing me with you.

Good night, love.

Lah.

PS. I'm posting journal entries from the trip soon, so there will be entries before and after this posted later.

Waiting...

Sitting in an English garden
Waiting for the sun...
If the sun don't come
You'll get a tan from
Standing in the English rain

Well, here I am, still waiting.

She was supposed to be here 12-1 ish; it's 1 20. Much longer and I'll have to call. I'm almost 100% positive that I'm in the right spot. Of course, it's entirely possible she was delayed for one reason or another, but I'm still nervouse since I have no way of knowing anything without calling.

Kay, ten minutes more. That will have given her 2 hours to get out of the airport. At least the people here are friendly. And several people have checked me out already, although that might be my outfit...

Welcome to Gatwick!

Whew. That plane ride just flew by (snicker, snicker).

And here I am, in Britain, with the sun on my back, waiting for Anne. Beautiful.
First thing I learned? Despite the periodic verbal announcements and huge red signs prohibiting smoking everywhere but the "designated areas", everyone smokes right outside the doors. Often sitting right on top of the conveniently located huge red signs, the way I'm doing.

Teehee.

Whew. This is all around funkay already. The UK, I mean, not the smoking thing.

I love my life!!

Being in the air was like being in stasis. If it got dark at any point during the flight, I didn't see it. I'm glad I slept on the plane, since despite it being 4 am back home, it was day when I left and I feel like I've been teleported here. I'm sure all the tiredness and fucked up sense of time will kick in eventually, but hey. I've been running on fumes for days now, so being tired ain't unusual, and my sense of time was never all there to begin with.

Whee!!

Lah.

Wednesday, June 25, 2008

Now Boarding

Well, here I am, waiting to board Air Canada flight 396 to London Gatwick Airport.

-shrieks wildly-

Hard to believe, three days ago the most exciting think was Inga leaving. Now, I'm leaving too. For 6 weeks, to the UK. What an experience. And the goddess is making damned sure I'm not only here, but under her conditions for the trip I guess I'm SUPPOSED to have.

Amazing and scary. And I'm flying alone, despite tripping with Anne and Blair. Over a month until I step foot back in Canada. Not even Calgary, Canada.

Guess I'm supposed to broaden my horizons, huh?

Thank you, Deesse. I love you.

Mmm. This feels right.

London. Avebury. Stonehenge. THE GLOBE THEATRE!!

*sigh* Everything's gonna be alright. Hell, it's gonna be fantastic! Awesome & Amazing! Whee!!

-is terrified-


...

...And here I am, still waiting...

An hour later...

Whoops, here we go!!

Lah.