Summer holiday photos, Devon.

These were taken back in August around Ilfracombe; only just finished posting everything from that holiday on Tumblr, so here they are in a big ol' chunk (sorry Blogger)! I also have a bunch of photos from Broomhill Sculpture Gardens -- I'll be uploading them in a separate post.

Lovely weather!

Ilfracombe Museum.

On hot days, this beautiful harbour smells like rotting fish.

Valley of the Rocks, and Hillsborough.

From Russia with love.

Classic Russian literature, Tolstoyevsky, or wallowing in the misery of a poorly made decision for a thousand pages. Like that scene in The Young Ones of the couple huddling around the lamp to reminisce about better times, or trudging through freezing cold snow whilst draped in a bearskin rug.

Joe Wright's film of Anna Karenina was lovely to look at, in a twirly Baz Luhrmann sort of way. Granted I'm not a massive fan of Knightley's acting pouting/frock modelling, but the theatre setting shenanigans were interesting. With about ten other adaptations, we didn't really need the same locations revisited -- it made it a memorable version. The film has a staged, stifling atmosphere (made all the more apparent when you actually go 'outside' the theatre, it's like a breath of fresh air), but it's a good experiment. Would rather like to give the book a try; obviously there's more depth to it than elaborate dance scenes and Princess Betsy's amazing wardrobe.

Ruth Wilson frock envy.

Also need to finish Crime and Punishment, which I started five years ago and still have a hundred pages left to read. It's not that I dislike the book, I think it's brilliant, I just can't stand reading about Raskolnikov's pompous, self-righteous antics; thinking because he's so clever he can bully, mistreat and erm, murder anyone around him. He just irritates me so much! And his poor shivering child of a girlfriend, oh god. Apparently he sees the error of his ways though; I'm probably going to eat my words in the last hundred pages.

Raskolnikov plus appendage, as interpreted by DeviantART.

I know bugger all about modern Russia (I haven't read The Communist Manifesto, but I've seen Fiddler on the Roof a couple of times), but I'm guessing that every other person isn't a Prince or Countess Somebody now. Anna would probably have gotten the same treatment for adultery though, if the whole Kristen Stewart lynch mob is anything to go by -- I know, I'm bang on topic for like JULY.

Parents have just ordered War and Peace on DVD too (which my mister found just as hard-going a read as C & P), so it's looking to be a very Russian winter. Fitting, because it's absolutely freezing.

P.S. What has Ang Lee done to Life of Pi, without the other 'animals' how will it end? Please not "heartwarmingly".

Album covers I've gone and done.

My dad’s been setting poems to folk music for years, here are some of the album sleeves I've done for him.

Horrorlidays.

Just home from Ilfracombe, famously described by William Shatner as “laced with prostitution”.

No ladies of the night, but it’s got a fair share of strange. Like it’s fantastic museum; started by a genuine “collector” and full of weird carvings, drawers of massive beetles, and a few two-headed things in jars. Which is what a museum should be really; a place to give you nightmares, reeking of preservative.

Could be what inspired Damien Hirst’s decor (lots of pickled fishies) for his restaurant in the harbour? Who knows, maybe that museum played a part in building his formaldehyde and butterfly fixarion, would be cute to think so!

More horrible things included Chambercombe Manor, massively haunted (apparently), with its secret room where a skeleton was found walled up. A local sculpture park that I wouldn’t want to be left alone in, ever. And Watermouth Castle, which I still insist on going to even though it’s for children; I love the underground dungeons with all their terrifying old animatronics.

Might do a photoset, “things I saw making kids cry”.

Holiday reading was mostly Lovecraft, who’s great to read on the beach because you imagine ancient monsters rising from the sea, or that the fly who’s after your scone is a trapped occultist, trying to convey some secret message. The more I read, the more I realise how much horror owes to him.

Really in the mood to write some, or even just do some art or something, but where to start! It can be a very subjective genre, and ridiculous things spook me.

Anyway, it’s lovely to be home, I’ve missed my boy.

(I’m actually quite sappy at heart)

Oh Lympics.

Boris Johnson stuck on a zip wire, amazing.

Laughing with Jake about how England’s basically the Mr Bean of countries, bumbling about and getting it all wrong with it’s North/South Korea mix-up.

“No don’t invite Britain, it’s a right useless plonker!”

This whole Olympic thing makes me feel queasy, it’s like a glorified Sports Day, giving me flashbacks of tripping over my own feet and crying in the mud.

Really hope one day us clumsies get a sport of our own, I can’t remember anything more esteem-shattering than P.E. lessons.

Of course being a bit thick or uncreative is fine, it’s just those bastards who can’t catch a ball you’ve got to watch out for, because it’s totally acceptable to humiliate unfit children (Hairy Dieters struck a chord tonight).

Guess I’d be less bitter if schools had an Arts Day, complete with little medals and departments that weren’t falling to bits.

A fashion frustration.

Shops seem to be churning out more cheap, nasty, meaningless stuff than ever. I ended up buying this bizarre hybrid of the pleat/sequin embellishment/collar trends, as it was the only thing that didn't leave me with absolute apathy.



Mum saying "you could do The Charleston in that" swung it.

I braved Mansfield not long ago to catch up with some chums. On an average night out, men dress like they're going to a job interview whilst women squeeze themselves into tiny stretchy rags. I'm not saying ladies go for powerful alpha-males (Christian Grey I mean you), or that men base a woman's worth on the size of her curves -- just that you'd be fooled this was so by some of the crap you see people wearing.

Not so much being a prude, as being bored shitless by all the predictable tat out there.

Until summer's Malibu Barbie thing dies down, Topman's the way to go. Boys clothes are comfy, quirky, and just way more fun sometimes (and no I don't mean those "hilarious" statement t-shirts).

I know nothing about fashion. This blog however, does.

http://ideayougavemeafrightdear.blogspot.co.uk/

Things I should be making.

Music. 

I used to have piano, violin and bass guitar lessons. Unlike riding a bike, I remember fuck all about these apart from Chopsticks and Smoke on the Water. I also have an acoustic guitar, a vintage harmonica and a pink melodica lying around. And I’m still pretty nifty on the recorder!

Doodles.

Getting back into cartoons again, my fellow (who’s also a guitar whizz, so envious) did an animation course and it’s really re-sparked an interest in them. I always dreamt of becoming a cartoonist, but it’s hard picking up my pencil after a long break! Watch this space, I might even upload some old embarrassing stuff.

Love not war.

Well at least that’s one out of the three.