Monday, 16 June 2014

Dear Diary, Wednesday 2nd October 1991. Tantrums and dramas, cream stone and marmite.

What is it about Jerusalem?
It reels you in, then draws you back over and over again, like a defective boomerang.
And this week - oh my goodness- crazy!

After an average pub on Friday (the Baker Boys have left a huge hole) and Caesarea with Sarah Shovel beforehand, it was back to Jerusalem on Sunday with Max and Mornay.
Mornay's never been to Jerusalem before, and looking back I'm not sure this was the Jerusalem he had in mind, as he's been walking round with this shell shocked look on his face since we got back!
But we did show him some sights, albeit hungover and in the Jerusalem heat.

Hitching down was great from the start - Max and I hid Mornay in the bushes to get a quicker lift and the first was via a pitstop in Caesarea, where they bought us beers.
A great lift, and we were sorry to leave them!

Back to The Jasmine, which was heaving, and I'd forgotten to ring beforehand, but never fear - they made up a bed in the kitchen and gave us a bottle of vodka :)
Eventually, very drunk, we staggered down to The Underground for Happy Hour, and watched Tom and Jerry before Max passed out on the table.
Propping her up between us, we somehow made it back to The Jasmine, but I knew she was too far gone to make it back at 11, and we had a HUGE argument, with Mornay acting as peacemaker.
I stormed off and went for a drink with Roni to calm down and it ended up as a really nice evening, in one of the side bars.

Back at The Jasmine, Max prodded me awake at some awful hour of the morning and we decided to stay another night and try again, before hitching back to SdotYam for work at 6am.
SO - argument resolved, hungover and vowing to stay on soft drinks all day we took Mornay on a tour of The Old City.
And threw in a few random visits to relatives and friends...
First there was Max's uncle, the vicar, who had MARMITE!  
Next there was Issy, but due to unforeseen circumstances that was a particularly short visit.
And finally, after climbing five flights of concrete steps on King George, after five years, there was Avi!  AVI!!!
Avi, my boyfriend from the summer of '86, who was so very patient when I was so very cross on that first day we met.
That first day, when I was in desperate need of a camera film when all the shops were shut.
He took me to the Old City to track one down and even donned an Arafat scarf to go into one of the Stations of the Cross.
We ended up staying all afternoon at Avi's - he had friends round and it was one big party - then Gizmo's and the Alexander Bar, before waving goodbye and heading for he Underground.
Avi was never a fan of The Underground, even when it was Amadeus.

Ahhh...The Underground.
And it was heaving!
Michael was there again, his twin was there, the music was good, the brothers were great and it was a brilliant evening...until 3am came and we had to hitch back for work.
In hindsight, we were way too drunk to hitch, but Mornay and I sobered up very quickly on our first lift.
Max had passed out on the back seat and the driver was taking corners at crazy speed with his feet on the dashboard.
I knew we had to get out, but we had to wake Max up first, an she was so furious at being dragged from the car that she stormed off to hitch on her own.
She'd got a lift before we could stop her and we spent the whole journey back worried about her, but arriving back she was there before us - passed out on her bed!!!

Working the laundry that morning...I kept nodding off on the ironing machine, and now, sitting on my bed the next day, I finally think I've recovered from a truly memorable, incredible 2 days in Jerusalem.

Saturday, 14 June 2014

The not so humble daisy.

Forget florists, with their abundant display of exotic blooms.
Or hothouse cacti and high maintenance fauna.

No, my flower of choice is the humble daisy.
And if I had to be picky, the Michaelmas daisy.
Pure, simple beauty, but it has to be white.

Daisies.  A bee's eye view.

As a child I was fascinated with daisy chains, albeit with smaller daisies!
Now. I am developing a fascination with photographing them.

Last year it was the street art of London; before that it was squirrels.
Yep,  I'd say I'm quite obsessive.

I love the contrast of the translucent white petals against a cloudless blue sky.
The essence of a quintessential British summer - but without the ominous grey clouds.


I remember reading an article some years ago about changing career.
The writer had made the comment that if you found yourself in a career rut and unsure of a path to take you should cast your mind back to school and remind yourself of the subjects you most enjoyed.

For me it was creative writing - a path I've never pursued - and art - which I have since gone back to.
At Art School it was textiles, which I have always loved - and photography, which I never had the chance to develop, as this was the pre-digital age and prohibitively expensive.

I think the writer had a point.