August was Pretty. September was Busy.

These last few months have been incredibly exciting. Full of new and familiar experiences. 

People. Places. Names. Faces. Work. Leisure. Houses. Rooms. Surroundings. Music. Adventures. 

Glancing back quickly.
August. Such a pretty month.
One full of expectations and relief. Things coming to definite ends with promises of new starts and opportunities galore.
Spontaneous trips to strange beaches and towns. 

The words 'Fuck it' slipping their way before almost any answer I gave for tasks and favours. What do I have to lose?
Nothing. I am moving away from this place.
These where my thoughts. 

Now. I would not say I was running away.
I have not run away. If anything, I feel more myself. Away from the place where I grew up.
Falmouth. Again. Not Frome. Here is were I dwell.
The idea had been brewing in my thick skull since I left last year.
A visit to Cornwall here and there since. And again I would leave.
Even when I did the photo job around Truro, when I left, I would well up. I was always leaving my home. Promising to it, under my breath or screaming out loud in the car, that I would return.
I have managed it.
Finally.

August had something special about it this year.
My photos had become a key part of who I am/want to be. For one. Confidence building. Faith in myself, and my own abilities.
My temporary office job, uncreative and unsatisfying was drawing to a close.
This colliding with the turn of ages. 23 this year. An old girl.
Along with the promise of relief. Falmouth, a mini promised land.
I had worked toward getting away. It was happening. And I cannot now describe the self satisfaction and pure joy that I felt.

Of course. I had a party. I made too much food. Leaving and growing and olding. It deserves a celebration.
I know I have said it many times. MANY times.
It was the end of an Era.
It is always the end of an Era.
And always a new one coming around.

Not even too soon. It was time to leave for Falmouth. The above picture was taken on the night before I left.
I stood out for air.
Packing is a pain.
I received a phone call. A newly important friend. Near by. Looking at the same sky.
How most people will receive this I do not know. But I felt a sudden love for the place I was leaving behind. For the people, and the times. Recent times to be precise. A sudden rush of memories. Stood next to my shed. My hide out. Appreciation is what I felt.
And then excitement.
Almost as intensely. Things changing again. Time to move. Towards something.
Never not moving.

I did arrive.
1st September.

I started a life again.
But this is not the beginning.
Because there is yet another era ending and another shortly to begin.

The excitement for another new chapter outweighs anything else mentioned before.
And this I will explain another day.

I'm nearly home.

Farm Fest Friday.

A pretty field it was.

Warm. Warm sun. 

I enjoyed Tall Ships a tad much.

Port Eliot.

Favorites.

Stomps by the river. High tide is High. Low tide is mud.
It was very amusing to see children sliding down the mud banks. Watching the parents cringe on the side of the river. How on earth will I get that out of their clothes.

 Cocktails and food.

Much, much food.

Smokey flavors, with too many herbs. No such thing.
Explosions of chili bombs. Ruined taste buds.

The sun. It was out. Boy it shone. Bright and warm.
Secret places discovered with fat cats. A joy. 

I would very much like to go back.
I'd say next year.
But there is no next year for Port Eliot.
It's having a rest. A shame. But good.
2014. We shall meet there again.

Far and Between.

I realise my posts on here are becoming an occasional event.
Rather than my intense blogging, like I used to do.
It's because, yet again. A bee of busies, I have been, yes.
I could say to you that I will change this. And maybe post more. But it seems to happen very sporadically and mainly when I am bored.
Like now.

If you see my Tweeting, you will see that I have been cheeking.
Angling my way to do photographs for little festivals.
Cider impaired lenses.

Managed, yes I did, to get a Press Pass for Farm Festival. A little field fest in Bruton.
Show you I shall.
I snapped and met a great and lovely band called Tall Ships while I was pottering around backstage. I can now admit that they where the only band there that I knew.

For all your informations. Anyone who wants to remember a night in a Somerset field... Do not drink more than three pints of Black Rat Cider.

The weekend before Farm Fest I went down to St. Germans in Cornwall, for a beautiful weekend next to the river at Port Eliot festival.
Lots of familiar faces popped up. Colours. Lights. Musics all over. Outside cooking.
SO much outside cooking. Delicious grub it was.
I may have paid. I tried to blag. But my skills may need some developing. And portfolio needs building.

Saying that. My website still needs sorting.
After the initial motivation rush, things did slightly subside.
And now once again I have other missions on my mind, which means the website may be taking the back seat for a while longer.

Mission number one: MOVE
Back to Cornwall.
Truro.
Falmouth.
I will be in one of you soon. A few months maybe. I am determined.
After leaving Cornwall last time. I left with tears in my eyes.
I'm not going to do it again.
Next time I drive past the wind turbines on the A39 outside of Truro, I will sure as hell know that I will be returning soon.
Returning home.

Peek.

Here you are.
A little sneaky peak.
As you can probably guess, I am working on a website. A photography website to be precise!
Finally.

It's all come about and together because of the motivation I seem to have at the moment. It's not going to waste. Promise.
Most of making.

What really spurred me on, was someone other than my friends giving me praise for my photos. My little snaps. Thom Hunt, (From Channel 4's Three Hungry Boys), saw my photos, and after a cheeky Tweet from me asking if he ever needed someone for photos, he messaged me, informing me that he would be needing some nice photos for his new website for a project of his.

So off I trundled last weekend. Back to the homeland. Cornwall. Place of love and beauty.
A beautiful cottage in the middle of the forest. Right on the river Fal. You can even see the King Harry Ferry crossing from the little muddy beach. Where I found some nice snaps, dead crabs and limpets.
The cottage itself is one of a kind. Or one that I have never seen before. Two rooms up, two rooms down. Basement with windows. Shutters. Pane glass windows. Old, ivy covered walls. The old familiar smell of a neglected space, ready to be used again. A strange comforting smell.
Inside; pots and pans, and a huge mixture of quaint and practical objects. Wooden floors. Rugs, books. Clocks with no time left.
It's a truly lovely little space. One that I very much enjoyed capturing with my lens.

The weekend itself was so relaxed.
No phone or internet signal for two whole days. It was a mad bliss.
Fresh homemade burgers. Trudging in mud and rain. Paint fumes. Rain and tunes. Foreign county cider and 20 questions from both sides. Sunning. Pretties being hung. Exploring the undergrowth. Nearly falling unseen into the stream. Phew.
Filling films. So many. Chop, chop, chopping wood. Swinging hammocks.
Just so chilled.

The photos that I took where deemed a success and Thom has informed me that some of them are definitely website worthy. Once it is up and my photos can be seen, I shall probably go a slight bit mad and post the link to it on every social media account that I possess.
I sincerely hope that I can visit the cottage again. Whether it be to take more photos for Thom and his plans for the little beaut, or whether I take him up on his offer, to yet another one of my cheeky requests, and go visit for my Birthday.Which would perhaps make my year.

Overall, I am so so glad that Thom gave me this chance. For a change of scenery. For a bit of motivation. I know that everything we do is up to us, but sitting in an office everyday of the week was really getting me down, with my inspiration and motivation ebbing away. Sometimes it is just good to find someone with a bit of faith in you, and to give you a little push out of the rut you create for yourself.

I know i've said it alot, but really, thankyou Thom. x

Some more for eyes.

Some snaps of times in-between times.