There are two bunk bedrooms upstairs.
I was about to post pictures but blogger won't play.
Watch this space.
Monday, September 29, 2008
More on the Chapel
The chapel's downstairs has three large bedrooms, a bathroom and loo, separate shower-room/toilet, and opposite, two more showers, a loo and a utility-room.
The double bedroom above is the smallest. It's hard to do justice. Even with a 17mm lens I can't get a full shot! The walls are about 2-3 feet thick (and then we had to insulate them to modern standards!) so there are gorgeous mahogany cill that have about the same square-footage as my first flat. (Plenty of scope for planting your books!
Above is the seating area of Bedroom 2, There's enough room for a full-size leather sofa (a sofa-bed) so people can "escape to their room". Only formally sleeping two, this room can sleep four (Mum and Dad can have the kids in there if they want to, or two singles can have a double each...)
And there's a computer, of course.
That's the second double. And very comfy it is too!
Chapel Update
The chapel in Wales moves ever closer to completion. This week sees the finish of the cosmetics, painting skirting boards etc and next week we have the stair banister fitted and then the stair-carpet. One thing holds up completion now, and that's exhaust fans in the bathrooms (don't ask me!)
Currently there are two straightforward double-bedrooms, and three bunkrooms sleeping a total of 13, but additionally there are five sofa beds. We did that because we never know what combination of singles or couples will turn up!
The table seats twelve.
The chapel's situation is great. The village is peaceful and sits close to the foot of Cader Idris but on the coast. There's a fully operational railway line that goes North to fairbourne, Barmouth, Harlech, Portmerion, Portmadoc, Criccieth and Pillwelli.
Travel South for Twyn, Aberdovey, Macynlleth where you change for Aberystwyth and Shrewsbury.
We've built this to live-in long term but while we can't it's a fantastic writers' retreat and I place where whole groups can stop. I've started shifting in hundreds (hundreds!) of Craft and How-to books, short-story collections, many, many lit-mags, biographies and autobiographies of writers, and of course, some good literature.
There is telephone and broadband there, at least four computers, a printer.
What I really hope, though, is to run writing courses there, the BC way. We had great success running course in Berkshire at Kingfisher Barn but that was always a squeeze. Here is perfect.
Nearest Cafe Five Yards.
Nearest Evening Bistro. Five Yards.
Nearest Post Office. Five Yards
Nearest Shop. Twenty Yards.
Nearest Pub. Seventy Yards
Nearest Railway Station. 500 yards
Mountains? Yes!
The Sea? Yes!
Monday Prompts
It is eighteen years to the day
In lamb fields, on dotted slopes
I see a playground, an ant-scatter of children
How do we know we aren't already dead?
Oh I have danced the sky as feathers
The life that I have is all that I have
The Farmer's Bride
There was a steady wind and the sky was pale
The wind was a torrent of darkness among the leaning trees
This is my country!
It must have been too cold for him, his soul gave out
Love's dances, Love's retreats, advances
And I was green and carefree, lying in soft fields
He with footstep heavy, her with sunny hair
When I was thirteen or so. green
But one by one we must move on, through the valley of pain
In lamb fields, on dotted slopes
I see a playground, an ant-scatter of children
How do we know we aren't already dead?
Oh I have danced the sky as feathers
The life that I have is all that I have
The Farmer's Bride
There was a steady wind and the sky was pale
The wind was a torrent of darkness among the leaning trees
This is my country!
It must have been too cold for him, his soul gave out
Love's dances, Love's retreats, advances
And I was green and carefree, lying in soft fields
He with footstep heavy, her with sunny hair
When I was thirteen or so. green
But one by one we must move on, through the valley of pain
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Latest on Capel Bethel
Capel Bethel, Llwyngwril (between Dolgellau and Tywyn) gets ever closer to being finished.
I am looking forward to running weekend and week-long course there and already the place is stocking up with literature!
Here are some pikkies
I am looking forward to running weekend and week-long course there and already the place is stocking up with literature!
Here are some pikkies
Sunday, September 07, 2008
Sunday Lunchtime Prompts
Without a hero
The sound of wind at night
An awful stillness, heat
She was good at faces
You could shoot anything you wanted, for a price
Strange weather
There's a man in the house
Barcelona
This is the first thing I noticed
So when did it all start?
Gigantic, fantastic women
We could go to Alaska?
It's not that I don't like you
There's a man I know, talks only of Jesus
Sitting on the Dock of the Bay
Two strangers on the bus, Grandma
Alone
Afterwards they were black from head to toe
Voices in the dark
Filler
On his knees, scrubbing in tiny circles
A wild justice
My mother and father are dead, or in Orlando
Boneshaker
On the other hand, not
I am like a sleepy fish
The sound of wind at night
An awful stillness, heat
She was good at faces
You could shoot anything you wanted, for a price
Strange weather
There's a man in the house
Barcelona
This is the first thing I noticed
So when did it all start?
Gigantic, fantastic women
We could go to Alaska?
It's not that I don't like you
There's a man I know, talks only of Jesus
Sitting on the Dock of the Bay
Two strangers on the bus, Grandma
Alone
Afterwards they were black from head to toe
Voices in the dark
Filler
On his knees, scrubbing in tiny circles
A wild justice
My mother and father are dead, or in Orlando
Boneshaker
On the other hand, not
I am like a sleepy fish
Friday, September 05, 2008
Friday Prompts
A small bird is taken by a hawk
It is a cold evening
RICE
An old man sits quietly netting
Porthcawl
A child looks from a train
He puts his hand to his face, unbelieving
SAGO
The air smells of fish
The sea is heavy, swelling
It is too dark
The road that used to go there refuses now
The headscarved women
History is bunk
You have to understand the fish
Only the poor can afford lots of children
CREAM
Does night change to day?
Stealing milk from the urn, scooping cream
Uncle Jonjo
For some reason, there are too many wheelbarrows
CARD
I want a dream kitchen, a kitchen to dream in
I eat fish we caught
We have too many books
No Matter What
Jennifer Eccles' Fat Sister
SALT
Call me and I will describe it.
It is a cold evening
RICE
An old man sits quietly netting
Porthcawl
A child looks from a train
He puts his hand to his face, unbelieving
SAGO
The air smells of fish
The sea is heavy, swelling
It is too dark
The road that used to go there refuses now
The headscarved women
History is bunk
You have to understand the fish
Only the poor can afford lots of children
CREAM
Does night change to day?
Stealing milk from the urn, scooping cream
Uncle Jonjo
For some reason, there are too many wheelbarrows
CARD
I want a dream kitchen, a kitchen to dream in
I eat fish we caught
We have too many books
No Matter What
Jennifer Eccles' Fat Sister
SALT
Call me and I will describe it.
Thursday, September 04, 2008
Thursday Prompts
His Mam loves him to bits
Blue Lagoon
At my door is a square of yellow corn
Davies the Doom has burned the chapel down
What city is this?
My father and my mother and my brother and my sister
Let's burn some books
The wink and nudge of secrets in the pub
It starts to feel like Ireland
I'd rather not be American
Piano Man
Last night I dreamt I ate wire
Why do some fat men look strong, some fat?
Resonant Frequency
Stone, Stone, Water, Wind
I see people in old photographs
Sawdust
Suddenly we are lost
If you time it right, you can get there at low tide
A place without certainty
He used to be safety officer on the Titanic
You want ice with that?
What are we waiting for?
A meteor lands tonight, we all must die
May I borrow your country?
I think I'll play monopoly, or charades
How much I love my daughter
Moon
The smell of an old railway station
My mother
Waiters on roller-skates, meals on wires overhead
Blue Lagoon
At my door is a square of yellow corn
Davies the Doom has burned the chapel down
What city is this?
My father and my mother and my brother and my sister
Let's burn some books
The wink and nudge of secrets in the pub
It starts to feel like Ireland
I'd rather not be American
Piano Man
Last night I dreamt I ate wire
Why do some fat men look strong, some fat?
Resonant Frequency
Stone, Stone, Water, Wind
I see people in old photographs
Sawdust
Suddenly we are lost
If you time it right, you can get there at low tide
A place without certainty
He used to be safety officer on the Titanic
You want ice with that?
What are we waiting for?
A meteor lands tonight, we all must die
May I borrow your country?
I think I'll play monopoly, or charades
How much I love my daughter
Moon
The smell of an old railway station
My mother
Waiters on roller-skates, meals on wires overhead
Wednesday, September 03, 2008
Wednesday Prompts
I turned on the radio and water came out
Hatches, Matches & Dispatches
Thirteen ways to look at it
Because it dissolves
The electrician is out of contact
Riding the Yellow Trolley Car
You were being silly
He disappeared in the dead of winter
I sit in a dive on 52nd St
Knowing each other too well to talk
Out of the blue I remember. My father playing football
The brooks were frozen, airports closed
An island five miles inland
DECAY
They are living off their reputation but it cannot last
Catch 18, and it's going to get worse
That's a lovely offer, but
You were right my dear, even when you were mad
Mayfly
The best of times, the shittiest of times
If I grow up, I'm going to be a boy
The room was suddenly rich with soft light
Whacky Posters
Go tell it on the fucking mountain
TIN
Building new homes at Buschenwald
TACK
Time was away and somewhere else
I have a desert but no camel
The waiter does not come
I asked my son when was he getting married. In the afternoon, he said.
The day needs a plaster, a bandage
I stand for old values. Give the black man a fair crack of the whip
I dream of being loved by a chorus-girl
My guru says
I am old and I have too may layers of paint
There was a camp here
Hatches, Matches & Dispatches
Thirteen ways to look at it
Because it dissolves
The electrician is out of contact
Riding the Yellow Trolley Car
You were being silly
He disappeared in the dead of winter
I sit in a dive on 52nd St
Knowing each other too well to talk
Out of the blue I remember. My father playing football
The brooks were frozen, airports closed
An island five miles inland
DECAY
They are living off their reputation but it cannot last
Catch 18, and it's going to get worse
That's a lovely offer, but
You were right my dear, even when you were mad
Mayfly
The best of times, the shittiest of times
If I grow up, I'm going to be a boy
The room was suddenly rich with soft light
Whacky Posters
Go tell it on the fucking mountain
TIN
Building new homes at Buschenwald
TACK
Time was away and somewhere else
I have a desert but no camel
The waiter does not come
I asked my son when was he getting married. In the afternoon, he said.
The day needs a plaster, a bandage
I stand for old values. Give the black man a fair crack of the whip
I dream of being loved by a chorus-girl
My guru says
I am old and I have too may layers of paint
There was a camp here
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