Brissle me babber

Since returning from Barcelona on the 3rd Oct, this was my fourth walk in Bristol’s green lands, a short stint from town, either the Clifton or Bedminster end and you are deep in green and listening to the deer. Or watch them munch silently in the bracken.

Is it days like these that make us the most contented folk, is it why we were voted the best place to live ? To live in the city with circus and theater and poetry and then when the sun shines a quick text and you can meet up and walk in the morning sunshine and see the trees just starting to turn and sit with friends and feel the sun on your face.

They ask if its difficult to be back, no, not in days like these.

I return to the studio for a breakfast of porridge and hot plums and think how the small things remain the big things where ever you are. I was so happy to go away and meet Barcelona and I am so happy to be back.

So happy to be back and to be ludicrously sociable. Immediately I have forgotten my no go get and I am stressed and busy and frantic and rushing and dizzy and all over the place, I had forgotten my words and poems and lost days of looking and thinking but now is the time for talking and go getting and fretting and my bad necks back but this is me, in England, my home.

If I can bring a bit of Barcelona, a bit of the tourist back with me, a bit of the ‘it is really ok to look and think, and silence’ for a day then it will be even better.

Highlights of october not including the obvious treats of friends and Doom Bar

Luke Wright…fantastic brilliant funny poet
Flown  made me cry proper wet tears of laughter
Being at home, the battle scene graffiti contains a portrait of a friend’s dog which makes me realize how far back I go here
Driving 1/2 hour and being in a cotswold valley
Veg boxes from with purple carrots and paying ( well Graham paying ) in bristol pounds….like….our own currency!!!! and Graham being part of that.

Leaving the fiestas of Barcelona to return to a poetry festival and then a literary festival….cant complain!
Walking in the rain and still smiling in the green graveyard
Trying to get to the top of park street on my bike and puffing while looking at crazy gargoyles on the wills building.

Shopping where people know my name, and the hardware men and the friendships of trade past.
My stupidly expansive/expensive studio
The huge flower structures outside the circus festival at

 Being able to speak to strangers

Distracted in the docks

Time is running out…I got distracted by Barcelona on the way to work today, flamboyantly she teased me. She flaunted herself in her bright colours, mocking my date and choice to get on the water home. It can always be like this she said. Too easily her flirtatious manner wooed me and I cycled along her water drinking colour. I am enjoying my work, looking forward to getting back to my fishes, she didn’t ruin my day in anyway, like a good friend woos you to go and drink Doom Bar, you swell with happiness just that little bit too excited.


graham going to work

cheesy sorry





fav flower here





But you shall not win Barcelona. My work ethic is too strong. My love for my quite still country can not be dissolved by your colour. But I will leave your shore with chocolate on my tongue.

If you listen to the song, written by Oliver Wood, I don’t see it as a morbid song,  for me I translate ‘live’ as being happy, being ‘alive’ meaning really seeing things, feeling alive and appreciating the tiny everyday things.

there is also this link

Vat return or ‘turo de la rovira’

Supposed to be doing my vat return, so ran up the hill with Molly and did yoga looking over the whole of Barcelona! er…yes ran up the hill and did yoga! I didn’t know vat returns could be so inspirational!

Well…it was more that I….stumbled, jogged, panted, walked, sweated, stood gasping for breath, walked, ran a bit, sweated and then did about three moves I could remember of yoga including the speary one, warrior I think it is but I felt pretty awesome up there all the same!

These are some pictures from when we went there late evening one time, you can see Barcelona 360 and watch the sun go down over the hills behind, but in the morning you are on your own and the morning light reflects bright on the sea below. There was a settlement there and there is still a small village on the back road up to there that has that empty quite feeling that villages in the country have.

You can see what its like on this vid, they do a spin round about half way through. Its all been cleaned up since then because of the rich history of the remains up there including leftovers of the former Iberian village, the bunkers and anti aircraft batteries from the civil war 1936 – 1939 and the shanty village in 1940 -1978

 Parc del Guinardó is the green bit below

lots off different levels from the old shanty town barraca “El Carmelo” the platforms where the houses stood and the old tiles of the kitchen etc

history here
how to get there here

La Boheme attico

Daddy reckons this place is very ‘La Boheme’.

La Boheme to me is romance. So it depends on your definition of romance wether this is a La Boheme atico.

If romance is not seeing the minging aluminum windows but seeing beyond, through the gaps, at an angel, then it is.

If romance is not thinking about the painted over tiles in the shower, which peel away with each drenching and instead laugh at the fact when you turn on the cold its really hot, (the pipes run up the side of the building and sit in the sun all day) then yes it is.

For romance…always keep the middle windows closed so the smelly pattatas bravas, chorizo fan smell doesn’t come in but open the window in the bedroom to hear the screeching of swifts every morning.

And… keep the kitchen as clean as possible so the ants don’t send scouts to check you out, punish you for your slovenliness of leaving melon juice and call down the tiny hole by the sink for the rest of the gang.

Don’t think about what’s under that interestingly low positioned back wrenching sink, or in fact whats festering in that imaginative grouting technique that appears at every wet junction, the impasto approach to grouting.

Just sweep and mop the floors even though you cant tell if it has made a difference or not. Hang a red cardigan on that deep green wall and appreciate it might be the impasto bodger who knows more about colour than you, it may be that its not Barcelona and its light that has shown you colour but his orange rug behind a that deep green wall.

And enjoy the crazy little workshop with the roof that flaps in the wind and how the washing dries by the time the next 30 min quick wash has finished.

Don’t complain about the weird clicking whirring noise that constantly comes from behind the antique oven but celebrate the fact that it works.

And while sweating at 33 and 99% humidity wondering why you didn’t stay in thick stone of the dark streets…just enjoy the view, and look at the light changing, and the fact you feel on top of the world.