#1513 theoldmortuary ponders.

How do you write what people actually want to read?

The sun sets on the Autumn Equinox. When day and night are equal. Daylight wise it is all downhill from here untill the Winter Solstice. We filled our twelve hours of daylight wisely, finding a camping pitch with an excellent sunset and swimming in a big sea pool in the heat of the day.

This sea pool was the main reason for us to want to visit Etél.The pool is so big I couldn’t fit it into one shot.

Unlike my, almost daily swims, this summer at Tranquilty Bay, there is almost nothing to consider when swimming in the peace and warmth of Etél. No waves, no currents, no rips and, protected by a lock, no massive tide height changes. But all the challenges of Tranquilty Bay have trained my swimming head to just let go and be in the moment which is still entirely doable in an ultra safe environment.

Swimming at Conleau Sea Pool yesterday. Caught in a sunbeam…

So back to the question. How do I write what people actually want to read?

Do I even do that?

Most people who read this blog are completely unknown to me and have stumbled on it. Some have had it reccomended to them. Others know me in real life and a few know of me from arty meetings. I must presume all of these people like that I write a blog about hyperlocal ordinary life.

This blog would not suit anyone who enjoys sea fishing, mixed martial arts or crosswords paricularly, but it might, you never know.

I jusr witter on about normal, often mundane life. Some people seem to enjoy that. To be honest I dont really try too hard, this is a diary of sorts. It is what any reader wants it to be.

#1512 theoldmortuary ponders.

What’s the most thing spontaneous you’ve ever done?

Spontaneousness and serendipity have been a constant in my life. Which is odd because I am also quite risk averse. If spontaneous action has a good result I almost forget that it was spontaneous and consider it a good decision or plan even, forgetting that there was no planning involved. If spontaniety turns out not so well I will judge it as a poor decision. A long winded was of saying my spontaneous acts are not judged and graded.

This current holiday was planned to only have spontaneous decisions. To travel on a whim and the hunt for a week or so enjoying a French Indian summer. Camp site owners however had their own ideas of enjoying Indian Summer without guests. Many of them closing on the 20th of September. Like a massive and motorised game of musical chairs, huge numbers of campervanners are chasing down less and less camping spots.

Booking is off line and in person. Luck has been on our side for three nights of glorious camping by a beach. But last night we failed epically and could only manage a dull roadside Aire. This morning we put on our competive heads and have again scored 3 nights by a beach. Not much ‘entente cordiale’ it must be said, wiry old Frenchmen sending out their ferocious female companions to bang on any part of our van to point out the perceived error of our ways in the queuing system. Believing, as some men do, that size matters and if that fails to impress then knuckles can reiterate the message. Our little brown van knew she was not doing anything wrong and the men, their womens knuckles and their behemoth vehicles just had to remain behind us. We are, after all, from the nation that knows how to queue and even in difficult unruly gatherings know the exactly who we are behind and who should follow us.

So most spontaneous of the day, join a queue, know our rightful place and stick with it.

#1511 theoldmortuary ponders.

Regular readers will know that some things will always interest me. Empty outdoor seating in beautiful places and colours. This picture represents two loves, an old style deckchair and an acidy yellow green, mist commonly described as Chartreuse. Rather cute that I found such a chair on a beach in the Gulf of Morbian. I also found a fairy tale castle/ chateau. Chateau du Suscino. The heatwaves of 2026 have scorched and parched the greenery around the chateau. All the publicity shots suggest lush and verdant greenery, but yesterday I could use one of my favourite colours to suggest greenery that is in bright recovery.

All made entirely possible by having such a packable sketch box which can easily make its way into essential packing for a camper van.

On a hugely positive note Google Lens recognised my painting as Chateau Suscino rather than any other beautiful old French Chateau. I will take that as a huge vote of confidence.

#1510 theoldmortuary ponders.

Yesterday was a lot of things. A dive back 6,000 years in history, a trip to a modern Marina and Moules ( not for me). A good bit of research is needed to write a blog about the deep dive into history, I am on very limited Wi-Fi so that will have to wait, but yesterday was all about colour matching too. My archived picture of a different marina exactly matched the gorgeous bowl of moules served to our table for lunch.

And it is not every day at a 6,000 year old historic site that you meet someone who could well be directly descended from the original occupants. This Fox Moth Caterpillar was casually going about his business in the entrance to the Petit-Mont cairn.

As moths are many millions of years old it is a certainty his many, many times great grandparents would have been doing much the same thing when the cairn was a building site, or a burial chamber or even a defensive German Bunker in World War II. Just Caterpillaring about trying not to be trodden on whilst searching for food to prepare for the great metamorphosis.Unaware that he was actually just a really good colour match for this blog.

#1509 theoldmortuary ponders.

What’s one thing you wish you had started doing earlier in life?

Not so much me as an individual but my birth family as a whole. I wish I had had holidays with my grandparents and foreign holidays with my parents. I am just being whimsical really, but this morning’s dawn picture is from a campsite founded in 1963. It is obvious that people have been coming here for many years. Some of them from the day it opened. The small beach bar buzzes with conversations that bounce from table to table. Not pretentious Bar Fly type boasts and swaggers. Just people catching up with people they have known in this particular holiday spot for many years. We are here on the last week of the holiday season but nothing feels like it is winding down. A fishmonger arrived last night selling freshly harvested oysters, there was no announcement and yet there were queues of people, both campers and locals excitedly buying oysters for their supper. Maybe that has always happened on a Friday night.

The toilet and shower block is very modern and high tech. A tree has been preserved in the atrium entrance and there is recorded birdsong. Presumably the new building replaces a smaller one that was more open to the elements. Birdsong whilst abluting is curiously relaxing. I think having this location as a regular holiday destination would be fabulous.

This was our second choice of camp site. Our original choice had excellent on-line reviews. But just driving into the reception area made us reconsider. It was very busy, full of people bustling about and doing performative activities, bikes, kayaks and alpine walking sticks were everywhere. Strangely and worrisomely like a cartoon version of a camp site. A lot of Lycra. I don’t need lycra to do not very much, although for the good of other peoples holidays and nostalgia, I am not skinny dipping near the convivial beach bar. A little lycra was a good thing in that instance.

#1508 theoldmortuary ponders.

A new dawn in some ways. We woke up this morning in France. Deliberately not accidentally. I had planned to swim some of the way by making use of the ferry swimming pool. Alas it has no water so that plan was scuppered. Instead I spent the 6 hour journey doing some digital housework and homework on my website. There have been a few glitches recently, some of my own making, I suspect, and others associated with software upgrades.

The homework section of my journey was to find a way to sign my digital work with an image of my artisan crafted neon light. Which was our house name when we lived in an old mortuary and was also the name I chose for my small art and design studio.

I have puzzled how to do this for some time. Strangely but not unusually the answer came to me during the twighlight zone of sleep/slumbering/pondering. Relaxed nocturnal, creative pondering is often very productive. Sometimes it keeps me awake. I have no problem with this sort of insomnia. Unlike the doom scrolling type which I am not a fan of.

As you can see from the Header image my sleepy musings came up trumps.

The housework part of my digital tidy up revealed that about a year ago I misnumbered the blog. ( Again!!) To make good the error I have added 100 to the title numbers. 1407 has jumped to 1508 I am sure I am the only person this matters to.

In other French news we have done the first supermarket shop. The fresh fish posed beautifully.

I may no longer be able to eat these gorgeous creatures but I will most certainly lovingly paint them.

#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 are 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 both 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 to 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 always 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.