Rivers Of Consciousness

Don't worry, be happy. Who knows what may happen?

Archive for the tag “plymouth”

Summer Daydream


Postcard Perfect

After a stressful few weeks of Uni, the sun decided to come out and play, and so three of us paid a visit to a local beach. We ignored the biting wind and pretended it was summer again, the weather teasing us. My poor camera had been neglected recently, so it was great to get back behind the lens (and a little in front of it, too!). These are a small selection of photo’s from that day.




A New Friend


Pastel Sky


Sunset Over Wembury Beach

Feb 13

All images are my own, please do not reproduce without permission.



I’m not a particularly sentimental person, or a huge fan of expressing my emotions in respects of my partner – I’ve never been one to flood Facebook with intense and frequent outpourings of devotion. But I think maybe once in a while is acceptable, so…

Today I am grateful for Jake, and I want the world to know that. Seeing as I can’t stand on the roof and yell it, posting it here will have to suffice. I have a lot to be grateful for. He keeps me sane, even though often he is the cause for my insanity 😛 He is my anchor, keeping my head out of the clouds and on a level. He has the best sense of humour, and always knows how to make me smile, even when I feel like shouting or crying or running. We’ve been through hard times and dragged each other through them, and we’ve kicked back and sailed through the good times with Bob Marley and a cold cider. We play and joke like children and argue like an old married couple. We have so many in-jokes we can’t even remember them all. We go for meals and movies, we have the hearts and candles and flowers and teddies, but we also have the assassin films, Sims 3, play fights, pillow fights, the yelling at the Xbox when some bastard shoots us AGAIN, the debates over which Avenger is best, and of course, stealing bites of each other’s food (well, Jake stealing mine…). He can read me like a book, and I him. He knows my worst fears and my greatest dreams. We compare and consider what the first things to buy would be, if either of us won the lottery (Jake would buy a KFC bucket, of course) and whether we would even tell anybody. No-one else rolls their eyes quite like Jake does when I throw the millionth outfit on to the bed in a fit of I-hate-all-my-clothes. I trust him with my life. He turns into a 5year old child when he’s had one too many, or when it’s Christmas, or when he’s just generally excited at anything. His enthusiasm for life can brighten anyone’s day. He’s protective but not stifling, concerned but not controlling. He fits into my family as if they have known no different, and his family have welcomed me with open arms. He drives me so far round the bend I could reach to slap his ass and sometimes I have no idea what nonsense he is talking. But I wouldn’t change a thing, not in the slightest. Read more…

The Citadel

In my first week, my tutor asked us to write about Plymouth, in a task separate from the rest of my course. Here is my contribution 🙂

The citadel rises high against the horizon,
Surveying the waves below, the sea a slumbering child,
At peace with a dreamy smile, a reminder,
Of plain sailing and summer laughter.
The breeze whispers against the limestone walls,
As they peer down on the picture of innocence.

But these walls shield a wealth of wisdom,
And they are not fooled.
The townspeople are charmed by the child,
Doting on their little cherub,
But the fortress is expecting the inevitable.
The sky darkens, and the breeze is pushed aside,
By racing winds who taunt and tease the sea,
Distorting the peaceful child into a turbulent adolescent.

Consumed in darkness, angst bubbling violently on the surface,
The waves stand and turn on the citadel,
Fists raised against the protector of the people.
Dominance is the game, a war waged between nature and construction.
The juvenile unleashes fury, the echo of lost battles and sailor boys ringing out,
The desolation of shipwrecks and skeletons, too.
400 years of attack, destruction and bloodshed do not rest well on these waters.

The fortress holds it’s ground, resolute against such aggression.
It grits its teeth, withstanding the screams of the sea’s claimed victims,
Resisting the old wounds which open, ignoring the guilt,
For everyone knows that not every life will be salvaged,
Nor every ship returned.

Image source

Upon These Columns, Great Burdens Stand.


Inside Charles Church. Makes me think of Harry Potter or something 🙂

My photography, Sept 2012

Moonlight Memorial


Charles Church, Plymouth.

During World War II, Plymouth was heavily bombed and Charles Church was destroyed in the fires that ensued.
Once peace had settled after the war, Plymouth decided not to rebuild the church, instead allowing it to stand as
a living memorial to the 1,200 civilians who were killed during those air raids.

My photography, Sept 2012

Mr. Ray

Following a visit to Plymouth National Aquarium.

My photography, Sept 2012

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