Until a few weeks ago, my mental image of 'the Canary Islands' was rowdy bars and rows of loungers on black sand.
I'd never heard of La Gomera, reached by ferry from western side of Tenerife. So if your geography is as shaky as mine, you might like to know the total population of this 2-million-year dormant volcano is slightly less than that of Frome, and most of this tiny circular island is covered with one of the oldest natural forests of the world.
You can walk deep into the laurel 'cloud forest' with moss thick as hoarfrost on every branch, you can climb literally out of the clouds into brilliant blue sky again at the top of the rocks, and an hour's walk will take you through eco-systems varying from dense pine forest to near-barren rocks polka-dotted with cactus and aloe vera.
Every turn in the hairpin-roads brings vistas to make you gasp, from the hikers' paradise of Garajonay National Park right down to the palm fringed bays 1450 metres below.
And then you drive back along the narrow mountain road past rural settlements painted moorish colours of cinamon and gold, a route that becomes daily more familiar - there's the goats, there's the bar with the bougainvillea - there's our house, in the middle of Chejelipes, as Madness might sing.
And the apartment was utterly astounding. A picky person might take issue with the broken cooker and paucity of light bulbs, but there's a coffee-machine and a fridge, and what I'll always remember is the panoramic window giving amazing views right down the valley, high above the reservoir where hawks circle slowly in sheer blue sky in the morning and at night the moon rose slowly above craggy distant hills.
Which brings me back to lounging beside black sand, which after 2 or 3 - or even 5 - hours of strenuous walking seems a grand idea, when beer comes in frosted glasses and all you can think is:
it's December, and it's 23 degrees!
So I've just spent a week of my life without wifi or internet access, and mostly without mobile signal. But I've seen dolphins and exotic plants and primeval forests and incredible rock formations in sunshine and mist, in places I could never have imagined and places I'll never forget...
Back in the real world, there was a festive feel in the air at
Words&Ears Poetry night in Bradford-on-Avon on Monday, so thanks to Frome posse - Rose, Alison, and Rosie - for so brilliantly supporting my guest spot. For an angelic footnote: click
here then
Programmes and scroll down to
Dec 18th Seeing Things - A Week of Angels for David Chandler's programme on FromeFM featuring some of the great poets of Frome.
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I should have realised the day would start early when I agreed to talk about War Zones on Frome FM Breakfast Show with Bo Bowman-Shaw and Sara Vian ~ the clue is in the name ~ but lots of black coffee was provided and it was great fun to chat about the doings of the day with Russ Ellingham, who's painting sensational decor for Archangel's big Prohibition Night, and with Paul Newman whose venue number 2 is a must-see stop on Open Studios trail. Then on to a day's intensive rehearsals, with Alan Campbell of Frome Film & Video Makers coming in to film the full dress rehearsal ~ looking forward to some some clips for Youtube!
Abandoning Rosie as soon as applause & cheers subsided, I scurried down to Dolly's Bar in the Old Bath Arms to catch the second half of the Bard of Frome comedy playwriting competition, results voted by audience ballot. Here's organiser Tim O'Connor announcing the winner and then I had to stop taking pictures because it was my play Muffin Man, a big surprise & delight, to me anyway. A quick dash back to the Cornerhouse where Dempseys were still playing, to end the night dancing, still shamelessly brandishing my trophy cup. Well, you would, wouldn't you?
