Sunday, 16 November 2008

A weekend post from the unwilling gardener

After speaking with Kristen from London, my new found friend from my recent Arvon writing course and blog guru, I am taking her blog advice and launching into the unknown with my very first post,  taken from a slice of an email I sent to her.

I have named my blog 'The Sifting of Ashes', after a script I have written about two sisters and their personal journey of self discovery.  The story is full of revelations about their parents' past lives and the secrets which were so carefully papered over in an attempt to maintain the impression of a stable married life.

Sifting through the dust of yesteryear, making patterns of what went before and shaping what is yet to come, is how I see my own 'Sifting of Ashes'.  So to those who are interested, welcome, and to those who seek a temporary distraction from what they ought to be doing, glad to oblige...

So I start along this nervous road, like a novice time traveller  attempting to make sense of the world and where I fit in.

The image I have selected for the moment is at the heart of me.  I have to live near water in order to function.  It draws and controls me like the ebb and flow of the moons cycle, without it I wither, fail to function, dry up and cease to be.  Dramatic maybe, but I know this to be true.

So this image shows the walkway down to my beach hut, it is just out of shot on the left and facing the sea.  The simple beach hut cooking facilities mean that all the meals I prepare there have to be uncluttered, stripped  back to their core, good ingredients, simply prepared and as everything has to be carried down a steep chine, transportable.

One of the dishes my friends and crocodiles love the most, is my pan fried fish (depends on which type according to the time of year and availability), coated in well seasoned flour, embalmed with a mixture of Rosie's herbs and once cooked, baptised with lemon and served with a simple side salad of colourful leaves, washed down with iced Sancerre served in the thinnest glass.

There, tis done, my first entry, which no doubt I will look back upon further down the line and find cringeworthy, but the journey has begun.  More later.

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