00695 Pooh stick update

It's like a massive commercial enterprise, a corporate juggernaut crushing everything in its path.

But with better environmental credentials, not currently turning over anything, devoid of human contact and with less people (just the one, as it goes)

00689 Fermain again (Fermagain)

There are few better ways to enjoy your surroundings than turning part of them in to tiny boats, IMHFO.

   

See?

00688 Fermain, man

Man, it's colds in the sea right now:

      

Fortunately, stubbing my toes on the rocks distracted me enough to be able to take pictures.

While grimacing.

00683 Petit Port and the Bathing Pools

And although I'm sitting inside on a rainy day, when I made these it was as if the Summer had pitched up and was here to stay.

After which it realised it had left it's wallet at the restaurant it just came from and had to go back.

Petit Port:

    

Bathing pools:

    

0671 Scottish Pooh Sticks

Scottish pooh sticks are go!

 

Glenmore this Summer.

00670 Pooh-pooh

More pooh sticks, both at Petit port.

00669 Pooh!

 The world has gone to hell in a handcart. Thank goodness the pooh sticks just keep on coming. You have to be able rely on something in this crazy mixed up place. Here's six months worth:

 

 

00660 Tiny boats are here again

 

In order to save time and money, new constructions are being scaled down.

Although, truthfully, it's more a time thing.

00649 Pooh stick spring

It's a sure sign that summer is on it's way when I find myself at the shipyard.

Construction of pooh sticks has always been a predominantly fair-weather business.

 

It is also a sure sign that summer is not here, when they are launched in a pool and not the sea.

BTFW, I am still currently out of the office.

00647 Pooh stick in the horse trough

There's a walk I do along the cliffs.

I'm in the habit of making a small boat to put in the horse trough half way along the route.

It usually makes me late.

00637 Pooh stick avalanche

Much time has passed.
Ironically, there hasn't been any water under the bridge, just sticks in the sea.

In Guernsey:

   

And in Sicily:

   

00635 Herm

 

I've got to the stage where I'm compulsively making stick boats whenever I find myself on a beach. It's a bit like straightening pictures in terms of how institutionalised I've become.

Could be worse. Grizzly serial killings for instance. Or a crochet addiction.

00451 Eeeking out the last

I've now been to this beach so many times, that I'm finding the same sticks on it and am consequently begging for a huge storm to sweep away the old and bring in the new.

Still, gets me out of the house.

Gets me in the water too.

And the camera.

How long can it survive?

00450 The end of the Summer

The hols anyway.

And with that, there always comes a slightly reduced volume of this:

Probably means there'll be more of this:

My inner geek embraces the coming winter.

00449 And then there was one

An excerpt from "Sailing with midgets":

"It is imperative in the extreme, that the natural balance of things be preserved. To wit: for a camera to be maintained as a working entity one must keep it from the ravages of the elements and for a small boat or group of boats to survive the fury of the sea they should be positioned in such a way so as to avoid the inclemencies that may be set upon them, were they to be put in harms way."

I find myself in need of advice such a this when presented with situations such as this:

... followed closely by inclemencies in the surrounding environment such as this:

... which in turn leave me with a damp camera and one, solitary floating figure, such as this:

I must try that "standing on the shoulders of giants" shit one day. At least then I wouldn't get so wet.