A patch of sky - why?

Head in the clouds?

Cast by artist Tom Leaper, this bronze statue, of a young fisherman casting his line ashore as he arrives home, stands on the seafront at Newlyn, Cornwall, England. Whilst it’s a memorial to the Cornish fisherman who have died at sea, to me it also seems very hopeful and strangely reassuring.

I'm working on a major book project set in Cornwall. It spans the last century with wide ramifications in literature and culture, connecting with all kinds of issues now considered woke. Ideas and discussions from 1924 seem very contemporary. The project is leading me through some fascinating information, memorable quotes and appetising snippets. Add to that the day to day fun life throws up and I find I have a rich mix of great stuff – no matter how whacky or mundane – a splendid catch that will be really good to share.

In Swann’s Way, the first volume of Remembrance of Things Past by Marcel Proust, translated by C. K. Scott Montcrieff (more about him later), Monsieur Legrandin tells the young Marcel, ‘Tâchez de garder toujours un morceau de ciel au-dessus de votre vie,’ in the following section:

‘Oh, I admit,’ he went on, with his own peculiar smile, gently ironical, disillusioned and vague, ‘I have every useless thing in the world in my house there. The only thing wanting is the necessary thing, a great patch of open sky like this. Always try to keep a patch of sky above your life, little boy,’ he added, turning to me. ‘You have a soul in you of rare quality, an artist's nature; never let it starve for lack of what it needs.’

For most of my life I’ve attempted to do just that, although with varying degrees of success!

Judging from the responses I receive to my writing – both poetry and prose – there seem to be lots of people on a similar wavelength or at least interlacing or cross-connecting with the same wave. Of course below a patch of sky, we’re often ‘mis en abyme’ but that’s another story – one no doubt I’ll be referring to as time goes on.

I expect to post a miscellany once a week, on a Friday or Saturday, a potpourri of my week’s endeavours and discoveries, reflections and collations, not to mention the occasional shock or omittance.

As the Great Spirit of Substack says: ‘If you’re having fun, your readers will too.’

So subscribe and enjoy!

To celebrate and get started, here’s the Penzance Silver Band, as there’s often a patch of sky above music! Plus a question for you to consider: Is it really true there are no red deer in West Penwith?

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