Tomorrow at Hay Festival

Where else can one see Victoria Hislop, Alan Bennett and Jack Dee but the fantastic Hay on Wye Festival? I am lucky enough to be part of the crowd this year and am loving every minute of it.

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Blogging from Hay on Wye

This year I will be joining other bloggers on the Making Hay wordpress site, posting quick impressions, observations etc of a few events at the great festival. For a flavour of what it is like to join in with the fun take a look.

Dammed

A man had a vision in the early 1900’s to build a dam.

This gorge narrows in a valley in the beautiful Costa Blanca area of Spain; a country where the value of water is high and rights of possession are fought over. Throughout the country’s history, powerful men have controlled the allocation of water from impressive buildings in city centres.

The dreamer hoped to create his own pool of liquid riches. High up the sides of the gorge the visitor can still see the abandoned path which accommodated the men, their donkeys and their equipment. In the tunnel walls it is still possible to see the impression of the sharp ends of the chisels which chipped out a passage through the rock face. Years of hard toil went in to creating the dam and it has stood the test of time. However, when the first water fell, rather than collect behind the stone wall the precious fluid seeped into the ground. Nature was not ready to be harnessed and another of man’s follies remain on the earth to remind us.

What is life like for the new Middle Agers?

Do you consider yourself in your middle years? Is that how you are perceived by others? I am shortly going to be writing a column for this age group and would be really interested in any feedback you might wish to give me about life as a middle ager. Examples of concerns may be things such as:

Are you able to buy clothes which reflect your style?

What types of holidays appeal to you?

What books do you like to read?

Are you able to join in with local exercise classes, gyms, etc or are they aimed at the wrong age group for you?

How much of an outcast do you feel in some environments? ie, Discos, bars etc

How difficult is it to meet people in middle age and why? Where do you meet new people? How is dating as a middle ager?

The above are just some of the things which have come up in recent conversations with other middle agers. There have been many more. Please let me know what you think, what experiences you have had, etc.

I haven’t been writing on my blog over recent weeks for a number of pitiful reasons. Sometimes life gets in the way of my writing and no matter how hard I try, when I eventually manage to sit down to write my eyelids fall with exhaustion. Now things are settling down once again with family celebrations over, medical matters dealt with and the chores just about finished and by next week I should be back in full writing mode.

Don’t forget to let me know about your middle age experience.

Hiding

Her arms provide shelter, protecting her from our scrutiny. She hides, not revealing her secrets. Is her story one of despair? Perhaps not. There is a shadow of a smile touching her lips. Why smile? A memory of a lover, the irony of discovery, protection of her own counsel? What secrets would she tell if released of her marble form? She inspires my imagination.

Reliving Youth, Guitar Playing and Talent

Last night I went to see my friend’s daughter, a talented singer songwriter, perform in a cellar bar near King’s Cross Station. As I stood there bouncing my head along to the music and tapping my foot to the beat, I was taken back in time to my youth. I was a guitar playing hippie chick who played and sang “songs with meaning” in the era of Bob Dylan and the like. I never went anywhere without my guitar. It accompanied me on my travels through Europe and comforted me when my emotions threatened to run away with me, usually because of the latest love interest. I tried to write songs however as I only ever played using a small selection of chords, I suspect they were never going to be considered great works. But, oh they were good days. Wasted of course, as is often the case, as the young are often unable to appreciate how wonderful the freedom of expression that accompanies youth can be.

Last night brought it back. I suspect my young friend would have been surprised at the young me. But as is the case as our skin thins and our hearing deteriorates, we become invisible. So although she likes me, I know that she could not see herself in me.

Don’t you love the talent of the young? Free in expression and with heightened emotion they can push boundaries with their talent. Do you know anyone who inspires you like that?

By the way, has anyone seen the Damien Hirst exhibition at the Tate? Now that is pushing the boundaries!!!

New Story

Uploaded a new story today. Just a bit of fun writing based on a story someone told me about visiting a house with a rather suggestive painting hanging over the fireplace. I really have got to get back to my novel as I think that I am going a bit crazy.