May Day! May Day!

No, not the Lost in Space Robot of the frantically waggling claws. Rather, the start of a new month, and the pagan start to the year.

Remembered with some fondness, dragging reluctant kiddies to a May Day gathering/celebration a couple of years back, up at Carn Bosavern (an unassuming hillock on the outskirts of St Just). All the pagan moot fraternity lot were there, in their loose flowing gowns and flower-garlanded hair. The only reason I even knew it was happening was because they were using the Acorn Theatre for their monthly meetings/guest speakers at the time. Being Antipodean, it was all new to us this May the 1^st frolicking etc..

A bizarre set up when we got there – one ancient, ex-army, khaki, square canvas tent, housing a share-a-plate festive banquet; several musicians playing suitably gay, folksy music; and one may pole. There's actually far more to dancing round a May Pole than you might think because,
a) it gets increasingly complicated the more times you wind in – all that up down up down is
pretty tricksy, and always seems to end up in a tangle, and
b) it's a surprisingly good work-out. Two attempts alone, utterly exhausting.

Jumping over the fire pit afterwards was particularly satisfying – not quite sure what you're supposed to do as you leap, make a wish no doubt? – always feels good to be doing something vaguely wrong/dangerous/scary (I'm easily thrilled).

But no hippy dippy stuff for me this year. I did, however, do my own communing with nature by taking an evening stroll round the back lanes above Newlyn whilst waiting to do the kids' scouts collection run. The lanes were lined with an abundance of bluebells and wild garlic, the occasional pink of campion, adding to the profusion of colour. So peaceful, so lush and so bursting with life. Cleared the doldrums that have been lurking in my muddied mind of late. As did the view at the top, over-looking Newlyn harbour (the biggest commercial fishing port in the UK) and Mounts Bay in all it's oceanic splendour. Nearly 9pm, and a kick-ass golden full moon was climbing its way up and over ( of course... that's why I've been a moody, grumpy cow of late! The moon effect).

Well whatever this month brings, it better not be fertility (mine or soon-to-be-seventeen-year-old daughter Rosie's) – any fertile vibes have to be strictly cerebral. Preferably expressed through the pen andor keyboard!