What better way to celebrate the fullness of winter than with a fayre? Glastonbury Frost Fayre is an annual event that draws visitors in from miles around. We spent two hours on a bus to get to Glastonbury (thanks Bristol traffic), but it was so worth it.
Glastonbury is one of my favourite places in the UK, and it was the place I’d always ask to go if I ever got a choice of day trip location when I was younger. If you’ve never been, it’s basically a small witchy town, steeped in myth and religious history, and the local businesses are pretty much all built off that.
Of course upon arrival we immediately made a beeline for the mulled cider stall (the best thing about winter of course) and warmed our hands around the cups whilst watching the Morris dancers.
Later, we met up with some friends and checked out some bands, had a mosey at the abbey, and watched some more Morris dancing. I refilled my incense supplies, had a giggle at the rather insulting horoscope candles in Star Child (bossy, moi?) and purchased a new notebook.
I had meant to pick up a bunch of Christmas presents, but the cider depleted my cash quicker than I expected, and as is usually the way with these things, I could see lots of things that I wanted, but nothing anyone I knew would, so it’s back to the drawing board on that front.
We ended the day by watching the sun set over the high street. The town’s Christmas lights were turned on, and we drank more mulled cider and danced a little, mainly to keep warm. We were pretty tired by the time we headed home, and we were definitely all eager to get back in the warm. The day was a nice reminder that winter can be fun. It’s not just mouldy walls and staying in bed all day because it’s too cold to get out from under the blankets. There’s roast chestnuts, dark, cosy evenings, Christmas lights and markets every other day. And if anything makes the hard times worth it, it’s definitely mulled cider.
Happy Halloween! My favourite holiday of the year (: To celebrate, I’ve written a little m/m romancey thing. Enjoy!
The sound of rattling metal filled Kyle’s ears as the fence reverberated against the force of his boot. He kicked the fence again, and the lower link broke. Kyle pushed the panel back, leaving a gap just big enough for him to crawl through. The fence clanged back into place once he was clear, but he wasn’t worried about noise. He knew well enough that no one would hear him out here.
The old hospital loomed just beyond a thin smattering of spruce. Kyle had always thought it an ugly building, squat and grey. It had been built in the late 60s for pure functionality, but it hadn’t stayed open long. Just 40 years later budget cuts had seen the hospital close. Plenty of people in the neighbouring towns had lost their jobs, and others had lost a much needed lifeline. Kyle wasn’t complaining though. He’d gained a home.
Or at least he had until the guardian scheme had moved them all on elsewhere. The building now was marked for demolition, and no one cared if it was looked after or not. Kyle thought maybe the same thing had happened to him and Ernie. They’d stopped caring, stopped looking after each other. Still, he wasn’t ready to bulldoze everything they had, even if Ernie thought so. Continue reading “Free Fiction: ‘Scrying’”→
We took a trip to Wales this week, driving up for my dad’s wedding. We stopped off at a few picturesque points along the way. The Honey Cafe in Abergavenny is a traditional stopping point for us. It’s changed hands a couple of times since my first memory of it, but it’s remained a nice place (clean and reasonably priced) to stretch our legs and grab a bite to eat. After that we broke at a little stream in the hills. And several times for sheep in the road, of course.
We broke down about half an hour from our destination. Of course it was at Devil’s Bridge, narrowly avoiding a dramatic swerve around the side of the hotel as the brakes on the car overheated (thank you mountain roads). It was probably retribution for all the times we failed to wave to the devil whilst crossing over as kids. Although really it was the best place to break down as we were able to use the phone in the hotel to call for help.
Eventually we arrived after about 4 hours of driving (thankfully not me – not having a license has its benefits) and checked into our accommodation before joining my dad and step-mother to be in the pub for a few drinks. If you’re ever around Aberystwyth way, take a drive to the Halfway Inn in Pisgah, because it’s a lovely place with views out over the valley, and a spooky reputation. We stayed in a caravan just above it, with some rather noisy and overly friendly neighbours who ate all our carrots.
The wedding went well. It was blowing a fierce gale the morning of, but it calmed down for the afternoon and no one’s hat was swept away. It was a nice little family get-together with wine and food and much catching up with each other, and just a little bit of the bitching that usually goes hand in hand with family (sigh).
Oh, and the wedding cake was a pork pie. Obviously.
I’m tucked away in the attic, listening to the rain hammering down on the roof above. I always feel a rush of excitement when the rain comes down like that, and although today has largely been a rather groggy hangover day (pizza is helping), I still leapt out of bed and ran downstairs to go and stand out in it. Not that the alleyway is a particularly nice place to experience the wonders of nature–there’s only so much joy you can feel when standing between broken eggshells and a mouldy lettuce. If I ever move house again, I’m definitely angling for somewhere with some semblance of a garden.
This evening I’m reading about atheo-paganism, which I’ve been thinking about lately. I think in the past I’ve always assumed I can’t be two things at once, but human beings are mostly just a mass of contradictions anyway, so why not?
I have a week off coming up soon and hopefully if the weather holds we’ll be going camping in the Forest of Dean. I’m holding out for a wild boar sighting. It would be good to get out of the city for a bit, even if it’s just for one night. As much as I love Bristol, I have a yearning for greenery and fresh air.
So I’ve done what most British people do when exposed to the slightest bit of sun: gotten burnt. I did it for a good cause, though. I was too busy listening to speeches at an animal rights protest rally to go home and put suncream on. Strange, but it seems like more people are dicks about animal rights protests. I’ve been to a few anti-austerity protests before this one, and maybe it was the size of the protest or something, because it was about 40-50 people instead of several hundred, but a good half dozen people or more were happily shouting ‘meat is normal’ and ‘I love bacon’ at us. One man did come up to bitch about Jeremy Corbyn though… Wrong protest, but nice try. Maybe people get offended and defensive because we’re not just asking for slaughterhouses to be closed, we’re asking the people we pass by to reconsider their diet, the way they live; we’re telling them outright that what they’re doing is wrong. Or maybe they’re just dicks and like to wind up the ‘snowflakes’. But eating meat isn’t normal. Not the way we do it in this country. There’s no love or respect in it. Animals are abused, they’re scared, they don’t want to die. If you wouldn’t eat your dog, why eat a pig? For survival, I get. But it’s not something to be proud of.
An interesting sentiment hit home with me during the speeches. That just being vegan isn’t enough. Being vegan is saying ‘I want nothing to do with this cruelty, I’ll have no part in it’. It’s passive. Vegan activism is doing something to stop it. That said, I do think just the act of being vegan does something. People ask you about it, because it’s a ‘weird thing’ and they’re curious, and you can show people that you don’t just eat rabbit food, that on the weekend you’re out eating pizza and burgers and cake and ice cream (although probably not all at once). There’s a need to talk about it, to talk about what goes on and to explain your decisions, because animals have no voice of their own to speak with. I worry – I don’t want to ruin peoples’ dinner, but then maybe it should be ruined. Because what went into that dinner is grim as fuck. Most people, if they had to see all that, they wouldn’t want to eat it. At least I don’t think they would. Cognitive dissonance is a powerful thing though. Sometimes it’s easier to go on deceiving yourself than to acknowledge brutal truths. People don’t want to know. I think that applies to anything, really. If I want a smart phone, or a new laptop, is it easier to live without one or to just not think about the fact that child slaves are used to mine the elements that go into making them?
It’s hot again today, maybe even hotter than it was yesterday, because I woke at 9am thinking it was midday. I’m thinking up ways to keep my rats cool over the summer. This heatwave is going to last all week, so I’ve ordered some ice pods for them. Today we’ve all moved down from the attic to the living room as it’s cooler here. They’re not happy about being in their hamster cages/carriers, but needs must. I’ve got plastic tubs of water chilling in the freezer to put in the cages. Every evening free roam is occupied with pea fishing. Frozen strawberries, peas, and sweetcorn are dropped into their cages every few hours (less so on the strawberries – too high in sugar) so they’ve something cold. I’m glad of my old stone flat in weather like this – it keeps the cold in. It’s still hot, but not as hot as it could be. My rats aren’t happily running about, but they’re not about to keel over.
The other problem is the flies. I don’t know if it’s just something about living in the city centre, or if it’s because we’re fairly close to the river, but there are like twenty or more flies buzzing around our living room. In a vegan household it’s not so easy to get rid of them, either. I’ve put basil in the window, and we’ll be adding mint and cloth strips dipped in eucalyptus oil come payday, but in the meantime we just have to put up with it. They’re not harming anything, they’re just annoying as fuck. If anyone has any other cheap, cruelty-free tips, we’ll take them.
Viva – articles and resources on farming conditions and veganism.
Male rat intros are hard. I’ve always just dumped new girls in the same carrier or small hamster cage as the residents and the most aggro I’ve ever had was from Ren, who looked annoyed and fluffy for an entire afternoon until she finally relented and accepted the new rats. A little bit of pushing and shoving, but nothing more than that. This is the first time I’ve ever had to introduce boys. I’ve read up on it, got advice from a few long time rat keepers, and thought I had found the best solution. They were getting on fine in a bathtub filled with an inch of water – Hati even seemed a little protective of Odin, one of my new babies. Odin kept squeaking and trying to jump out of the bath, and Hati took lead from him. So I moved them into a carrier thinking it would be fine, and after only a second there was squealing as Hati jumped on Odin. I fiddled with the latch of the carrier, grabbed Hati and shoved him straight back into his cage, but in the maybe twenty seconds it took me to do that, he’d torn a huge chunk out of Odin.
It was horrible, a big open wound and I’ve never seen anything like it before. Cue me crying down the phone to the emergency vet receptionist, who I called twice just to make sure I was doing the right things. She told me not to bring him in, just to keep an eye on him. It didn’t make me feel better, but it did save me spending the rest of my meagre savings. Apparently, according to my rat keeping friends, boys do this a lot. So I waited, and yesterday it was already healing, half of it closed up. Odin didn’t even flinch when I went to clean it. He just sat there and let me bathe it in a salt solution, which couldn’t have been comfortable. He’s only known me two weeks, but he seems to trust me already, even though in his mind I’ve tried to drown him several times and set a giant angry rat on him. I don’t know if I’ll keep going with this intro. I probably moved too fast with it, so I might, and take it extra slow, or I might neuter Hati and try again in 8 weeks. We’ll see. As lovely and cuddly as these boys are, I might stick to girls next time.
Luckily my own introduction to my new housemate was not quite so violent. It all seems to be going okay at the moment, and although we’re different in some ways we do have a fair bit in common. We went on a walk that I swear wasn’t meant to be six miles long but somehow ended up that way, checked out Cabot Tower to see Bristol from up high, the Bristol Suspension Bridge which was much nicer than it looks from below, and Ashton Court deer park. On the way home we stopped at VX, the best vegan junk food shop of all time, just before closing, and might have gotten the bus the rest of the way home because our legs wouldn’t work anymore.
Jay has now moved all her things out (except little things that I keep finding everywhere – mostly sewing needles that have embedded themselves into the carpet), but it’s been quite a gradual change, and not the dramatic ‘bye forever’ that was my last big move as she’s only moving a forty minute walk away (I’ll probably still catch the bus).
We’re starting to get the house more as we want it now. I’ve moved into the attic and the rats have their own little room which is an absolute godsend, as is their new two storey cage which is so much easier to clean. I spent three hours putting that thing together, and now I’ve realised I have to take half of it apart again to make it more secure for the girls (if I don’t, there’s a risk of them worming their way into the boys’ half of the cage, which would obviously not be good). It’ll be worth the effort though.
I spent the morning sitting in the conservatory at my dad’s house, watching a red kite swoop over the pond. He couldn’t get anything out – this is why there’s a net covering it. I’ve only ever seen them from a distance before, black silhouettes with forked tails hovering over the hills, gliding on the updrafts. It’s easy to forget how huge these birds are. There are tales of them carrying off small dogs, but I think they prefer an easy meal, road kill or food that’s left out for them. This one didn’t seem to be going for any of the live fish, he was swooping for a dead one floating on the surface.
We then left for Devil’s Bridge, and had a good wander around the falls, testing my fear of heights with Jacob’s Ladder.
We stopped for a while by The Robber’s Cave, where the legendary Bat’s Children had their hiding place, and where I got the idea for my book of the same name. Being here makes me think a lot about that story, walking the same paths that my characters walked, seeing, more or less, the same landscapes. It’s nicer in the summer, but the dark dreariness is probably more the setting I envisaged as I was writing.
Outside of the falls, it’s a lovely, bright day, with the gorse in bloom and lambs darting around the fields. I’m a bit tempted to smuggle one home with me.
Today we’re having a chill out day. I’m sitting in my cousin’s house with a cat curled up on my lap, staring out the window at the countryside. It’s a nice day, breezy but the sun is shining and there’s more white cloud than grey in the sky.
We’ve packed a lot into these past couple of days. On Saturday we went for a walk along the cliffs of Courtmacsherry to see a raven’s nest. At first I thought there were six to eight raven chicks in there, but on a second look there were only two. They were huge. The mother raven was sitting a few feet away on a rock, while another was gliding in the air above. For a first raven experience, it was pretty great. After that we stumbled across a faerie hollow and picked some wild garlic for dinner before retiring to drink gin, cuddle squishy rats, and play Cards Against Humanity.
On Sunday we drove into Kerry, passing through West Cork, into the mountains of Killarney national park. We stopped for lunch in Kenmare, and I spent too much on fancy soap and mugs. Lunch was had at a little cafe called Mick and Jimmy’s, where a band were playing, and the staff were very sweet and provided us with lots of great vegan options. After, we made our way to the Gap of Dunloe, and saw another raven being attacked by a much smaller hooded crow, and a kestrel that was standing in the middle of the road and took flight as we approached.
Gap of Dunloe, Killarney
Killarney is crazy pretty. It’s incredibly dramatic, and you can’t not think about how it was created when there are giant boulders bigger than most houses, cracked in half either side of the road after being spewed out by some great volcano. It was the perfect weather for it too, with storm clouds lurking over the mountains. Though thankfully the rain held off until we were on our way home.
Later, we’ll go for a walk to look at baby goats, come back and watch some films. My cousin hasn’t seen What We Do in the Shadows, which is practically a tragedy.
I’m sitting in the port at Rosslare, drinking strong coffee after four hours on a coach and another four on the ferry, trying to sleep instead of throw up, trying not to swear at the teenage boys that kept running up and down the lounge and yelling at each other while everyone else was curled up on sofas with blankets or coats pulled over them.
There’s a strike on, the bus that would have taken me down to Cork is cancelled, so I’m waiting for my cousin to drive up to collect me. The train would take longer, seven hours to take me up to Dublin and back down again, for the price of €60.
I was hoping to see the sunrise over the ocean, but it was too cloudy for that. Still, the smell of sea air was nice, and there’s a childlike excitement that comes with travelling over water, watching the waves chop under you, salt on your palms and fingertips after holding onto the railings.
I’ve had maybe three hours of sleep, full of interruptions, but I’m here, in Ireland. This is my first time here, so I’m excited to see everything. I’m not sure what I’m expecting. Faeries gathering around ancient stones, maybe. Banshees wailing from the hilltops.
When it gets to 9, I’ll take a walk around Rosslare, although it seems a bit dreary from here. The main town is over the hill though, and I can’t see it from here. Perhaps it has more charm. Either way, at least it should have food.
This week has been… interesting. Jay Robin announced that she’s moving out. Which means this weekend is going to be a flurry of cleaning so I can take photographs to persuade people that this is a decent and respectable place to live. Or something like that.
I’ve got time. She’s not just clicking her fingers and vanishing into thin air, but still the clock is ticking and I want to find a decent human being and not some cave troll of the sort I have unfortunately found myself living with in the past. Not wanting meat in the house might slow things down. The veggie/vegan list on Spare Room is about ten times shorter than the omni list. Still, if I get this right, I’ll end up with a new friend (:
One of my best friends from uni announced she’s getting married next year and asked me to be one of her bridesmaids, which was pretty cool. It means a trip to Australia so the saving starts now. I’m pretty excited because not only will I get to see her and her new (okay, not so new since she’s been there for three years) life out there, I’ll get to explore the other side of the world! I just need to get hold of a flamethrower and some heavy duty spider repellent because she couldn’t live in a nice, safe city; instead she’s right in the outback where all the really nasty things lurk. The upside of that is maybe I’ll get to see a crocodile! Might not go swimming though…
I’ve also booked a trip to Ireland next month, which is less exotic than Australia, but somewhere I’ve never been and always wanted to go, and I’ll get to hang out with a cousin I haven’t seen in a fair while. Might even see a fairy road.
I’m also planning a few more tattoos, including one I’ll hopefully get in Melbourne next year after this wedding (it’s probably going to be a crocodile, not gonna lie – big up tourist tattoos).
There’s a fair amount to look forward to at the moment, and also a fair amount to stress me the fuck out, so it’s been quite a mixed week all in all. I’ll be a little more relaxed once I’ve got some adverts up for the room and I can feel like I’m being proactive. According to my recent tarot reading I’m the eight of swords, hanging there while the wheel of fortune turns. I tack my readings to my wall so those cards are just staring down at me, reminding me that I need to start doing something. So far all I’ve done is bought a mop.