Archive for the ‘Places’ Category

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Marrakech – Mopeds and Minarets


2010
03.23

Posted in Places | 5 Comments »

Cloth dyed with Indigo drying in the Dyers Souk

Marrakech was fabulous! – A vibrant, chaotic city where gardens and quiet terraces offered welcome shade and respite from the crazy, overcrowded streets teeming with life: with people – people on mopeds, riding bicyles, driving carts and mules, caleches and taxis, people offering to sell you their services – to henna your hands, shine your shoes,  or sell you a myriad of goods especially in the impenetrable souks, where we invariably got lost.

It was an assault on the senses and cannot in anyway be sufficently conjured up through images alone, there was just too much noise: the  antiphony of the call to payer echoing around the rooftops, the insistent drumming in the square, the snake charmer’s haunting flute, rowdy taxi horns, horses hooves, early morning songbirds, the voices of the storytellers…and then there were the smells; sandalwood, jasmine, engine oil, horse dung, shoe polish, spicy tagines, mint tea, cumin but most of all orange blossom – it was the season – and at times it seemed to me that the whole city was drenched in orange blossom…heavenly!

I didn’t write – other than make a few lists- but I read a couple of great books, especially What I Loved by Siri Hustevedt – a book I lived inside for the whole time I was reading it and somehow did not want to finish. John laughed out loud as he re-read Catch22

We visited several palaces, drank tea (all we could afford!) in the gardens of the most expensive hotel in Morocco – the fabulous La Mamounia, wandered the souks, ate harira – a spicy lentil soup with lemons and dates on the side, and ate fabulous pastries and ice cream in the Argana Cafe in the main square.

It was warm, no it was hot! hard work at times but exotic and rewarding -  an absolute gift for any writer… and I have to admit  another beginning did just drift across my mind…

Herbs, spices, pot pourri

Le Jardin Majorelle - Yves St Laurent

Across the rooftops to the Koutoubia Minaret - visible throughout the city

The terrace of our riad hotel - Jnane Mogador - at night

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To Marrakech…


2010
03.14

Posted in Lists, People, Places | 2 Comments »

I am off to Marrakech!! I’m looking forward to doing nothing other than wander the souks and gardens of this extraordinary city. Of course I will be taking my camera but the only writing I will be doing is making lists in my notebook - lists like artists’ sketches make brilliant starting points for writing both prose and poetry. After this long winter I’m hungry for Morocco’s vibrant colour and its heat.

Yesterday at our RoomToWrite day the heat was turned up as we sat under glass in the elegant conservatory at Whitworth, looking out onto the  snowdrops and deer. It was a beautiful morning – the sun shone for us once again – there is some kind of magic at work here I feel-  and there was magic in the conversations, the intense and complex discussions and in the writing that continues to grow and develop. There was great comaraderie too and we were delighted to welcome Colleen all the way from Chicago via London, and we were sad to miss Erica and Anne – hope we will see you in November.

So much good writing – some of which will appear on our website in April, so make sure you take a look. I leave you with something I like a lot from Kate Mosse:

There’s only one difference between published and unpublished writers and it is this – the first group see their work in print on the shelves of Waterstone’s or Tesco or online at Amazon; the second group are yet to have physical evidence of the hours, weeks, years spent fashioning words into their patterns. You are already a writer.

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A Conversation with the Sea


2010
02.13

Posted in Inspiration, My Writing, Places, Visual Arts | 2 Comments »

Scallop - Maggi Hambling

I am about to spend a week away with friends in Suffolk, and I’m really looking forward to it. East Anglia is a place that holds real resonance for me. I went there as an undergraduate many moons ago and more recently I lived in Norwich for six months.

The flatlands call to me – perhaps they remind me of home and the Somerset Levels or perhaps it has more to do with how I felt when I left home and a whole new life opened up before me – I especially loved those four years I spent there from age 18 – 22

The cottage we are staying in is on an estuary – with great views to the sea, so I will be in my watery element. I am also feeling optimistic having had some unexpectedly good feedback on my new novel. There is still a long way to go but I’m keeping my fingers crossed and I’m enjoying the praise and positive vibes while they last – I’m beginning to be a great believer in celebrating the small successes and not worrying too much about the future.

I’m particularly looking forward to seeing Maggi Hambling’ s Scallop again, on Aldeburgh beach. The edge of the main shell is pierced with the words, “I hear those voices that will not be drowned” It makes my skin prickle just thinking about it!

I’ve been thinking for some time about setting a novel or some stories in East Anglia so I’m hoping very much to hear some of those voices and have my own conversation with the sea.

Music is an abstract art, but we cannot help being struck, as we approach the sculpture from shoreward, by the anguished cry from Peter Grimes: ‘I hear those voices that will not be drowned’. It is immediately visible, written by light on the rim of the shell. These are words bound to intensify our sense of hearing as they suggest we listen for reverberations of another kind on the marine air – echoes of ‘the still sad music of humanity’. We remember at once the essential humanism of Britten’s music, its expression of the total range of thought and feeling, its empathetic capacity to celebrate and to commemorate, to praise and to mourn.

Mel Gooding

Notes: Maggi Hambling referred to Scallop as ‘a conversation with the sea’.

Mel Gooding is a well-known writer on art and architecture. He is Research Fellow at Edinburgh College of Art.

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Magic, Inspiration and Sparklers


2009
11.09

Posted in Inspiration, People, Places, Workshops | 4 Comments »

deer

There was something magical about driving up to Whitworth Hall on a sunlit autumn morning –  deer chewing on the damp grass, spilling their breath into the cold air,  a wet crust of coppery leaves on the gravel paths, lipstick red berries, melting frosts, a promising blue sky. If we had orchestrated the weather for the first RoomToWrite weekend we could not have done better and the morning was a gift that made our exercise in Close Observation, Wendy’s brilliant idea that subsequently yielded such beautiful writing, all the more inspiring. The world outside our round- tabled conference room sparkled.

In the evening, we were joined by our illustrious guest writers; Elizabeth Gill, Pat Barker, Sharon Griffiths and Fadia Fakir. We enjoyed wonderful food and great conversation, and drew our first day to a close with the dimming of lights and the lighting of sparklers -an inspired touch by Gillian.

sparklers

But perhaps what sparkled more than anything over the course of the weekend were the writers themselves and their writing. So many thanks to; Jackie, Judith, Michael, Anne, Erica, Mary, Eileen, Norma, Alison, Hilary, Linda, Lisette, Kathryn and Geri –a great list! – for making it such a brilliant weekend for us and to John from HPM. Thanks for all your hard work and for your great sense of fun, enlivened of course by the odd G&T.

Whilst we hope we enabled and inspired we were truly inspired by you. We felt the magic and I certainly came away believing that in the coming months I will make my writing an absolute priority – finish my current novel and start a new one (that’s exciting) – there is so much still for me to do in the world of writing – so much for all of us – and I look forward to hearing how everyone’s work and plans progress – I look forward to seeing some published novels too– the world’s our oyster now we have HPM to help us publish – so Good Luck and Keep Sparkling!

Do take a look at the feedback and lovely photos courtesy of Geri now at   RoomToWrite

whitworth

Whitworth Hall

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The Sea House.


2009
10.15

Posted in Places, Poetry | 1 Comment »

sea house

The back of the former hotel where our apartment was situated

Cornwall was warm (very warm!) and exotic. It was full of stories and inspiration. Our apartment Njoya was beautifully positioned, much nearer the sea than I had dared  hope and equipped with everything you could possibly need (I would highly recommend it- Classic Cottages – S. Cornwall, Coverack – lovely ownwers Ray and Jenny Toft). The coastal path was at our door and the sea was a huge presence, constantly shifting and hypnotic. We sat outside on sea watch, with a glass of wine in hand, on more than one evening and I was reminded of how powerful an influence the sea can be on one’s mood and well being. Terry from Easington recently sent me a poem Thoughts of the Sea that expresses this very well – and of course the sea features very strongly in this part of East Durham.

In Cornwall I found the need I often feel to escape the public world emerging. Despite outward appearances I like being in hiding – and I began a number of poems which I will work on now for some time. Here is an extract towards the end of a poem I have called…

The Sea House ….

…and I sit in the shift of small things
the patterns of now and the sea-house evening
when the men

go down after midnight to catch
another early tide and return when the sun warms
the quay

a million miles a year to arrive from the east
slipped back in the bed rock of time, I am ghost of
myself out of public

no white sailing boat on a flat blue sea.

But – despite my brief and welcome exile it’s great to be back and I am looking forward very much to working in Easington, to the prison Book Festival event at the Gala Theatre on Oct 27th and our Room To Write weekend – all of which will keep me very busy and will be very exciting!

s house inside

Inside Njoya

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Jubilacion and The Durham Divan


2009
09.29

Posted in Inspiration, People, Places | 2 Comments »

A Divan/Diwan

A Divan/Diwan

There is much happening in our house at present inc. several birthdays and a retirement – John is retiring after thirty years of working in Children’s Services for DCC in what is a very tough job.

The Spanish word for retirement is Jubilacion – ‘an expression of great joy.’ We prefer it!

-and while I’m on the subject of joy and celebration I must just tell you about The Durham Divan which met for the first time last Friday. The Divan is a forum where published authors based in the North East can communicate and network. It has been organised by Fadia Faqir and Pat Barker and generously hosted by St Aiden’s College. The first meeting was a huge success, I met some great new people, all writers of course, and I felt privileged to be there. I’m looking forward very much to being a part of what promises to be a formidable group.

In case you’re wondering why Divan?

Diwan or Divan – the word is Persian in origin, and was loaned into Arabic. It has many meanings among them: ‘bundle (of written sheets)’, hence ‘book’, especially ‘book of poetry,’ (Diwan-e Shams-e Tabrizi by Rumi), ‘forum’, ‘council chamber’, ‘people’s consultative council or assembly’. It also means a place that is separate from the main house and usually used for social gatherings. Divan provides a friendly space, where debates on a wide range of subjects: literature, culture, art, politics etc., are facilitated. It also means ‘a long, cushioned seat’

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A September Evening and A Perfect Party


2009
09.18

Posted in People, Places | 2 Comments »

flowers and candles

I am pleased (and mightily relieved) to report that I can finally put my socks on again!  I still can’t spend long at the computer though, and am definitely having to ration myself.

So what has life been like without writing, blogging, reading blogs etc? Well I have to say I’ve quite enjoyed it! It was kind of peaceful and useful in reminding me what was really important

-          HOWEVER – enough of that – because writing is very important and after all I am addicted – so here goes –

Last night I made my first real foray back into the world at Wendy’s celebration of twenty one years as a writer of adult fiction! – a true cause for celebration, along with the publication of her novel, The Woman Who Drew Buildings.

It was a lovely September evening warmed through by the afternoon sun. As we arrived several small children in the street asked us if we were going to the party and did we know the way? Their excitement mingled in the air with voices drifting from the house where the front door stood open, inviting us in.

Candles and flowers adorned Wendy’s lovely house and there were sparkling lights and a gazebo in the garden. Wine flowed, food was abundant and delicious, and conversation was the best! I had lots to talk about with the lovely writers from Easington, and with many other friends and colleagues, also with Rachel of Listenupnorth who I met for the first time, thanks to Anne. I so admire what Rachel is trying to do.

I couldn’t squeeze into the study to hear what Wendy said, there just wasn’t room, but Fadia told me it was ‘perfect’ for the occasion and I am sure it was.

I tried desperately to talk to Sharon and Pat but seemed fated never to manage it!  I was pleased that I did at least get to catch up with Liz after missing our last writer’s lunch.

I wanted to stay longer than I did but my back won out in the end. My only real regret – I forgot to take my camera, but then cameras can get in the way of good conversations and special evenings can’t they? And this was truly special – a great party Wendy, I loved it. When’s the next one please ?

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Dreaming Spires


2009
08.11

Posted in Places, Poetry | No Comments »

 

co

Christchurch College Oxford

A friend of mine recently mentioned a trip to the beautiful city of Oxford and straight away it reminded me of how much I love Matthew Arnold’s , ‘city of dreaming spires,’  from his poem -Thyrsis:

…And that sweet city with her dreaming spires,
She needs not June for beauty’s heightening…

Arnold is right when he says Oxford does not need the benfit of June’s enhancing. It is a special place whatever time of year you visit. Here are two extracts from different poems I wrote one wet November after a trip to Oxford. Even in the rain and the dusk it seemed a place of magic - and of course as we all know it was the home of Morse!

 

November in Oxford

……gilt edged stucco and ceiling rose

long hidden, now exposed

cry softly through paper walls

into wet city streets

and fountains dance

in the shadow of life’s darkening

pool – while you hide

under the skirts of the umbrella

it’s stems blown wide

in the November wind.

 

Sunday

…high stools and low ceilings

banish a century of Sunday blues

Moss walled cocoon

crowd alleys and cobble 

patent pavements,

red wine undress recall

unknown memories

shared, didn’t everyone

watch Morse? Did you? …

 I think perhaps it’s time for another trip to Oxford!

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Coming Home


2009
07.05

Posted in Gardens, My Writing, People, Places | 5 Comments »

 

 

front-window1

My front window and the green fields beyond

 

It’s now a week since I got back from France and to my surprise I am still adjusting. It has been quite a culture shock to move from a place where writing was everything to a world full of home and people and another life altogether. Of course some of this has been wonderful: arriving back to my home and family - to a house full of colour with carpets underfoot and my garden full of green. How green is England!  (The tones here are so blue compared with those yellow tones in the Languedoc). I know it’s what returning travellers always say; England is so green. Well it’s true -it is a lush and beautiful garden full of honeyed scents and damp earth, with cows  in the fields, long grasses, pale roses, Wimbeldon and strawberries (in my opinion better than french strawberries) - and here there are no seagulls only the occassional owl at night. It is also the place where I belong and where my friends are:Val and Jackie and Marnie - and it feels good to be back on touch with them as well as with  family. (And others too, soon I hope)

 

roses

Roses in my garden

 

I saw London on the way here, staying overnight last Saturday and meeting up with Katie my daughter in Covent Garden – in the middle of the heatwave! My sleep deprived, aeroplane fuelled, head had difficulty in coping. I don’t think I’d ever seen London so crowded or so hot. We had to dive for cover into the air con interior of a restaurant the name of which I don’t remember and stay put drinking rose and eating pasta.

Finding my way back to Stoke Newington I somehow missed the great thunderous downpour. I got out of the tube at the Arsenal and found a lovely Nigerian mini cab driver to take me the rest of the way who waxed lyrical about London and how tolerant it was, how it was the only place to live. On our short journey, as if to prove a point, he took me past a  church where a transvesite/sexual ? wedding appeared to have taken place and all the guests were stood around at the church gate – men in dresses and veils looking very Lou Reed and very wild!  

Meanwhile my novel sits waiting on my desk upstairs. I can’t begin to contemplate work on it just yet but that’s not such a bad thing. Most novelists, and poets too, say let it rest – leave your work to stand for a while – as long as possible – so that when you come back to it you can see it with fresh eyes. I won’t be leaving it for too long but I have several poems jostling in my head, a number of books I want to read, and workshops* to prepare with Wendy, people to see - so plenty to do and of course I need to start checking out Danny Beck’s (the protaganist in my new novel) Newcastle

*Yesterday we did our first workshop on Life Writing – a bit of a shock – but it was great – see next blog for more details and photo

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Reflections on a Writer’s Gift


2009
07.01

Posted in France, My Writing, People, Places, Poetry | 2 Comments »

 

reflections

Reflections on the river -L' Herault

 

 There were so many things about Agde that were a writer’s gift, not least the sheer uninterrupted time in which to do nothing but WRITE or think or talk about writing. Already, although it is wonderful to be home I find there are so many things that distract – some of these, most of these, are good things, enjoyable things as well as the chores but all take up time and take time away from the writing.

I miss the way time was in Agde – the way the only thing I had to be was a writer.

As well as this gift of time Agde also offered up the gift of the new – the way that being somewhere new and exotic floods your senses and sharpens your thinking, the way it makes you look. There is so much looking and seeing and that it is good for a writer.

Being somewhere for two months also brings new knowledge and a growing sense of  the different communities who live there. One may only observe from the edge but in time one begins to feel a sense of belonging – of being a small part of this place – still guessing but learning all the time.

I came away from Agde knowing much more about it than when I arrived

I know…where to buy the best croissant and how the price of cherries alters according to the day -  where to eat moules frites and delicious plat du jour …  the clarity of the light, the way it falls on the water and beneath the trees …the roads the fisherman cycle home after a day on the canal…the fields where the bee eaters live… how to find the shepherds hut, the oreilles’ wood… the way to the sea past the banks of thistles… the walk to La Guingette and how good their house cocktail with coconut tastes… the girls who serve in the cafes, the postman, the librarians, the swifts that fly at the window… the roof terrace with plants and naked man…how the one way system works, where the kerbs are too steep to lift your bicycle onto the pavement…. where there is a dog with three legs… how the voices of the Gitane echo through the narrow streets… where a bike is being slowly dismantled, a wall built, the architect lives… where a barge is moored that sailed from England, a beautiful house by the river with roses and jasmine in the garden… where to buy the bargains on the linen stall on market day …the colours of the shutters and doors… the silence of the afternoon…the way the language sounds but only some of what to say…that one day I will go back

But most of all I came away from Agde knowing that I was indeed a writer and maybe even a poet - after all who else but a writer would go off for two months and come back with 80,000 words?

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