#1407 theoldmortuary ponders

If you had to switch lives with a fictional character for a week, who would you choose?

Absolutely and without a doubt a privelidged and well educated male spy or diplomat. I want the connections, an elegant apartment in central London and most importantly I want an extensive tailored wardrobe. If possible I would like my week of being a privelidged sort of fellow to be a week off , so no actual spying or diplomacy being done. Just a week of hanging with my equally elegantly dressed chums doing chap stuff like watching a top level sports match in an exclusive box whilst sipping or quaffing a drink or two, and still have a razor sharp mind for a witty or erudite conversation about my latest motorbike adventure and the pitfalls of a damaged sprocket. I would take my mother out to dinner and actually spend time talking and laughing with her.We would travel on a London night bus in our beautiful clothes to prove how in touch we are with all levels of society, and we would go to a delightfully retro all-night cafe to top up on unsophisticated calories because our dinner choice was so beautiful, exquisite even, that it failed to fully satisfy us.

At the weekend I would go to the countryside wearing tweed or the coast wearing quiet luxury, and meet more well connected friends Mindful that I would be running out of time as an extremely lovely and likable Alpha Male impersonator, my Saturday and Sunday would be spent talking about anything other than myself in order that my week-long research into being a very lucky man has been as well used as it possibly could.

Would a week be enough? Could I become addicted to a life of testosterone and privelidged living?

Would my vocabulary alter to use words like rusticate or flunk instead of chucked out and fail.

Could I possibly wear waistcoats more often in daily life? Calling the garment a ‘weskit’*

Obviously before my week away as a chap or chum I would do some homework. The Guardian article above would be invaluable.It is well worth a read even without a fictional adventure into manhood. Pull up a chair and relax.

What would be my takeaway from this tiny adventure. Without it ever likely to happen it would absolutely have to be the clothes. I worry that the combination of privilege and testosterone might quite turn my head, and no self respecting woman wants to run the risk of being a knob. Thank goodness for all the lovely men in the world who prove that that outcome is not inevitable.

#1406 theoldmortuary ponders.

I had my first cold swim in home waters today. A summer of heatwaves has made me rather spoiled for sea temperatures. Last week in the sea felt a lot warmer.

Last Wednesday I swam at Tinside pool and found that to be really chilly; today was not quite so cold but today I had my gloves on, after getting cramps last week. My plan is to swim with no wetsuit in the cooler months. Gloves are one thing but the wetsuit struggle is one step I would rather not bother with.

There are a few arty admin jobs to get done today. One of which is to name and mount one of my paintings from the summer. ‘Tranquility in a Heatwave’ seems favourite. I am humming and ha-ing about getting some prints and cards made. It is always hard to know which images interest visitors to art shows enough to make a sale. Which is the purpose of putting a mount on it . Just to help me gain a new perspective. But actually just looking at a hot day after a chilly swim is warming me up. Or is a big mug of tea doing the job?

#1405 theoldmortuary ponders.

Washing on the line in a heatwave. This picture exudes the heat of our recent heatwaves. Washing dried in less than two hours.

Another happy heat-loving space is our tropical bed . Less happy are the pot grown plants of which we have many. Pot grown plants failed to thrive and went into a protective phase, not dying but not doing any growing or ripening.

But nearly a month since the last really hot weather all plants have snapped back into action. Tomatoes and Strawberries are prolific and as red as you could hope for. Everything else is growing away. The potted palm trees are throwing out new leaves. But days are shortening so yesterday all the potted palms were moved into the areas with maximum daylight in September. My hope is that their new leaves will unfurl and get stronger before the high winds of October.

With October in mind I decided to start on Autumnisation of the yard. It feels wrong in bright summer-like, September sunlight, but it is a job that must be done. A grubby job but satisfying with the reward of a cleansing swim. Chillier than I have become used to but still lovely reward for my labours.

Full disclosure there is vitually no difference between autumnisation and wint**isation but I really cannot contemplate that word just yet and neither can my potted palms.My washing is already suffering day-long drying that is not quite 100% . Autumnisation sucks.

#1404 theoldmortuary ponders.

What’s the best advice you’d give to someone younger than you?

I am not someone who habitually hands out unsolicited advice. I don’t always like to receive advice or instruction that I neither need nor desire, so out of respect to others I limit my offerings to those who ask. That is not to say that unsolicited advice is always a bad thing, but too much, too often is just patronising.

However, the question has been asked and I would say to younger people,try to develop a positive outlook on life. Wear rose tinted spectacles when you can. Try to find the sunspots in a field of gloom.

Constantly negative people are not my tribe, now I am semi-retired I like a life topped up with positive energy. Not everything in life needs to be polarised or adversarial. We do not always have to agree with someone to find some common ground that is relatable

Practice makes perfect. Pink lenses can help you focus on the one good thing, the beautiful thing, a small kindness, an act of love, the inappropriate giggle even in the darkest of places. Pink lenses are a metaphor for finding something good in every day and the more you do it the better you become at it. In my humble opinion, if anyone is interested.

#1403 theoldmortuary ponders.

Picture from Plymouth Historical Heritage

This water colour was painted by Queen Victoria whilst moored in Plymouth Sound on the Royal Yacht.

Drakes Island appears in lots of my blogs.

My guess is that she was anchored just to the left of the orange buoy that you can see in the distance of this photograph.

I wonder if she felt the urge to stop painting and slip into the silky waters of Tranquility Bay. She could have been a Bobber

#1402 theoldmortuary ponders

I have had a surprisingly arty week. This should not have come as a surprise because 2 days were set aside to fill in an on-line application for an arts grant, that included a budget proposal. I was always going to find other things to do rather than knuckle down to admin of that sort.

Betond normal life my procrastination of choice was two pieces of preparatiry work for known future projects. A huge and colourful watercolour with fantasy fruits and flowers and a coven of laughing, giggling women. Neither of which have anything to do with the Ocean based, arts grant, I was filling in.

One so colourful and the other monotone.

In other painting news, I bought some nice fat figs to pose on a favourite plate.

Which in turn took me down, or up a very tight aperure in a fig and to the tragic story of Fig Wasps. Another known procrastination technique

:https://theoldmortuary.design/2026/09/12/1401-theoldmortuary-ponders-3/

Mentally entering a Syconium via an Oristole. Two words new to me yesterday which led me to a third new word, the utterly delightful ‘Foundress’ meaning female founder.

I suppose I am the foundress of theoldmortuary ponders and it is illustrated with my mistresspieces.

We should reclaim these lovely female- centric words.

Looking at these particular mistress pieces I sense that although my heart is hanging on to the scrag end of summer my head is definitely turning towards autumn. If I look at a few images created this week there is a definite autumnisation to my colour choices.

One last piece of arty news for Sunday. We went to a play about the Artist Beryl Cook. The actress Kara Wilson delivered a one woman show/monologue while painting a man in a turquoise thong. All in the fruity colours of autumn.

#1401 theoldmortuary ponders

It is Fig time, I eat them and often paint them. Today I learnt a new empowering word. Foundress.

I am almost as thrilled with the word ‘foundress’ as I was when I discovered the word ‘mistresspiece’.

This all came about because I arranged a still life for a future painting. 6 figs on my favourite plate.

At the time I pondered if the irregular area , obvious on a cut fig was anything to do with a fig wasp.

The life cycle of a fig wasp is an interdependent, lifelong cycle spent entirely between the inside of a fig’s flowering structure (called a syconium) and flight to a new tree.

On entering the syconium a female wasp becomes-

The Foundress

Finding a tree: A fertilized female wasp (the foundress) flies to a receptive fig tree guided by its specific scent.Squeezing inside: She enters the syconium through a tiny, tight opening called the ostiole.Sacrificing her body: The opening is so narrow that she typically breaks off her wings and antennae while squeezing through.

Pollinating flowers: Once inside the hollow cavity, she brushes against the flowers and transfers pollen she carried from her birth fig.Laying eggs: She inserts her egg-laying tube (ovipositor) into the ovaries of the tiny flowers to lay her eggs.

The mother/ foundress fate: Her job finished, the original female wasp dies. Enzymes in the fig dissolve her body.

Larval growth: The eggs hatch into small larvae (grubs) after several days.Feeding inside galls: Each larva feeds on the surrounding plant tissue inside a protective swelling called a gall.

Wingless male wasps emerge from their galls first. The males mate with the female wasps while the females are still trapped inside their galls.The wingless males chew an escape tunnel through the wall of the fig for the females, then die inside the fruit without ever seeing the outside world.

Before leaving their birth fig the newly fertilized females pass by the male flowers and become covered in fresh pollen.Restarting the cycle: They fly out through the tunnel made by the males to locate a new flowering fig tree and repeat the cycle.

You may have to read this a couple of times.

No Fig wasp comes out of this alive, there are no happy endings.Lady wasps are held captive until they are fertilised. Gentlemen wasps die building an escape route that they will never use.

My love of figs as subjects for painting and eating figs seems cruelly nonchalant compared to the eternal circle of tragedy experienced by the fig wasps.Even the discovery of a new-to-me word seems pretty trivial with this tale of brief, tragic life and certain unpleasant death. From start to finish this has the feel of an epic drama.

Foundress, though, the word does sound rather fabulous. I sense it will never be the plot for a film or book

Six figs on my favourite plate.

P.S this is a trial blog, using new software

#1400 theoldmortuary ponders

Green Smoothie on a cafe table. Almost an Alien Seascape

It has been a busy week. So busy, I was unaware that theoldmortuary had pondered its way to #1400 blogs in the most recent iteration of blogs.

The Garden Painter started things off in South London.

Pandemic Pondering straddled the London/Cornwall years.

theoldmortuary ponders is Devon based.

The Garden Painter was a blog , exploring my immediate post-graduate of Fine-Art years as  a full time radiographer doing art in our South London back garden in the snippets of time available . The Garden painter blog was even more infrequent than the snippets of time. It has not been archived, or maybe I need to look harder. The blog covered a 10 year journey of exhibiting all over London and learning how arts organisations run.

Pandemic ponderings started on the first day after an Art exhibition I had helped to plan was cancelled due to the Covid outbreak

Pandemic Ponderings #1

#theoldmortuary ponders started on a blogging course on 10 th October 2021. For no particular reason, except that at some point, thank goodness the pandemic was going to run out of steam. So why not just jump to a new title on a random Saturday. Covid had the last laugh, I caught Covid for the third time during that weekend.

#1 theoldmortuary ponders.

In researching these two ‘first’ blogs I realised that at some point in July of this year I got my numbers wrong.

My blog numbers sequence dropped a 100 blogs.  This is irritating but not wholly unusual , I am quite disnumeric. It goes hand in hand with my synesthesia.

I really have to concentrate when numbers are involved. When required I can do maths to a reasonable level because I have had to learn to do so, but in a relaxed place my head is a little frightened of numbers. Blogging is certainly a relaxed place, my punctuation suffers , not as often as my numeracy, but it still suffers.

So there we are, #1400 when I thought I was on #1300.

There were just under 1,000 Pandemic ponderings. Even I can add up 1,400 and a 1,000 . There were not really many The Garden Painters so at a rough guess that is about 2,400 blogs over 16 years. That is a lot of pondering. Thanks for pondering along with me.

#1299 theoldmortuary ponders

Street Art Tweaked @theoldmortuary

Not a particularly arty day, 3 meetings. 1 veterinary, 1 arty, I tennis and 1 time sensitive proposal to submit before midnight tonight. On time for the vet, tennis and the  time sensitive proposal. Only actually late for the arty gathering. Of all of these things the proposal was hanging over my head and was certainly what caused so much creative procrastination this week. Form filling is not a favourite pastime but needs must.

Feeling mighty proud of beating the midnight deadline by six hours. I just hope the creativity keeps flowing now I have no reason to procrastinate.

The picture above is street art found in Plymouth featuring nine lighthouses.

I just stuck them together digitally and made the colours bleed a bit  . Of course what I should have been doing was filling in a form to be more than 6 hours away from a deadline that I have had for 3 months!

#1298 theoldmortuary ponders

Sometimes life and art collide in the most unexpected places but also in the most timely way. I have a few projects on a gentle simmer. At surface level they are all quite different. At a granular level they have many similarities.

The image above is made from 3 photographs taken in the same location at about 7 am this morning.

A  Sunrise
A rust stain on concrete
Some glass bricks at Tinside Pool

What inspired the header image was a beautiful stained glass window at a Thanksgiving service for the life of a friend.

Stained Glass by John Piper at St Andrews Church

Having this beautiful window to concentrate on was so comforting when words stopped flowing. Grief robs eloquence and quietly waiting for words to stream again was made a little more comfortable by having this previously unseen church window to explore with moist eyes.

Rolling forward to 6:30 this morning and my eyes were dryer, thank goodness, and darting about a 90 year old Lido. One of my simmering projects.

I love, love, love a glass brick and the crazy abstract patterns they create. Today I wanted more. These glass bricks face the south. What I wanted was the limpid sunrise to be seen through a glass brick.

Armed with some digital skills I popped outside to catch the sunrise. In catching the sunrise I found the rust stain on concrete. I stuck them all together and made a stained glass window which pretty much fulfills my mornings wish list.

Thanks to John Piper for the inspiration.