Wednesday, 25 April 2012

High Tide01:32 (2.30m)
Low Tide07:16 (0.80m)
High Tide13:43 (2.40m)
Low Tide19:42 (0.70m)
Sea temperature: taken 2 days ago at 8.8
Sea conditions: Very choppy, slight undertow
Weather: changing - more later
Joined by: The Poet and Jess
Topics of conversation:
Our main theme this morning was poetry, not just because The Poet was with us and had just had an encounter with Derek Walcott at uni. but also because of GCSE studies. The Poet had told us he'd be seeing Derek Walcott and we were keen to know how he had found him, "quite old" was the response. I suppose that if you have an image of someone based upon their words it can be quite a surprise when you meet them in the flesh. The Poet has been given an exercise to learn The Fall of Rome (W.H Auden) and judging by this morning's rendition, he'll have it by tomorrow. It's quite a bizarre experience to be fighting your way out to sea against the waves with The Pirate and The Poet shouting into the wind:
The Piers are pummelled by the waves;
In a lonely field the rain 
Lashes an abandoned train;
Outlaws fill the mountain caves.
Coincidentally The Pirate has a CD in his car at the moment with a recording of this particular poem read by Auden, so he's very familiar with it and is hoping to be getting an insight into it's meaning, which we struggled with a bit, although I do love: Ceasar's double bed is warm as an unimportant clerk writes I DO NOT LIKE MY WORK on a pink official form.
I'm immersed in poetry at the moment as I'm working with one of my students to cram her for her GCSE. She attends a school which is run on the principles of A.S. Niell and the students don't have to attended classes, so she didn't much. That is until very recently when she decided that exams might be useful and might help her get into college. She is one of those lucky people who is incredibly talented in most creative fields but she has not been given the tools to access literature or pass exams. It's been a challenging but very fulfilling 3 weeks for me and with some wonderful input from The Poet's son, who coincidentally is doing a PHD on literature. With a combination of his enthusiasm, the fact that she thought he was rather gorgeous and a lot of hard work, she might have a chance. Her treat, if she had completed all the tasks and demonstrated her new understanding of form, language, ideas and tone was to spend a couple of hours in DK's recording studio. She really deserved it and DK was wonderful, treating her as a pro. and making her feel comfortable. It was joy to behold as she belted out a couple of songs she knew well, and then DK played them back with a bit of reverb and added a bit of orchestration. I thought she might burst at one point, she was so delighted. As we left she waited till we were out of vision so as not to blow her cover - hyper styled grunge developed to look as if it's quite the opposite, own design tattoo, guitar over her shoulder - and squealed "OH...MY...GOD... he's sooooo coool!" Well I knew that. I'll post the finished article, which I'm going to put some visuals on for her but I am going to hold to ransom as her homework is to write a sonnet. No sonnet, no CD.
Deep Heat - the ointment that is. It has been suggested that I shouldn't be swimming in this temperature, by Mark, who treated my hamstring injury. Apparently the cold tightens the muscles and then the uneven sea floor and beach cause the them to work hard to balance, which won't aid recovery. I'm nearly better and he knows me well enough to know that he can't stop me going in so he thought I should try Deep Heat. I won't be able to get any till the end of the week but I thought I ought to give the boys warning, in case they smelled me coming over the dunes.
The weather - as is often the case. This morning it was because I had had an appointment with a beach hut cancelled due to the owner having heard the weather forecast. She has very kindly agreed to lend the hut to me for a week in July, it's one of the ones you are allowed to sleep and so I'm very excited about the idea of rolling out of bed and into the sea. Mertz thinks I'm quite mad to want to sleep on the beach so won't be joining me but I'm hoping the dogs will, I guess I'll be able to put the kettle on for the boys in the morning too. She was right and the weather began to turn as we waded onto the shore, the wind whipping the sea up behind us. It's now lunchtime and I think we've had more rain in the last few hours than we had all April last year.

I got back home to find a friend of my Mother's waiting for me, she was attacked by a dog outside the village shop and had to go to the surgery for stitches. She is shaken too (although she'll never admit to it) as he had knocked her to the ground, gone for her face and then ripped skin on her thumb. It's doubly unpleasant for her as the dog belongs to a friend. It's rare days like today when I'm glad I live next door to my Mother!

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