It's so ruddy boring trying to recapture old ground, life is there for to be progressed on forwards, not ruddy backwards.
However, just this once, I will try to give you an insight into parts of my background, and hopefully, insights into the future. I'll write not like usual, but hopefully, short punchy paragraphs.
Bisous, stick the kettle on darlin, you have your coffee, I'll have my PG tea, milk, two sugars.
I was born here: http://www.trebah-garden.co.uk It is renowned famously worldwide as one of the top paradise sub-tropical gardens in a tiny micro-climate all of it's own. In Cornwall and beyond, it is known as The Magical Gardens Of Trebah, The Garden of Dreams. It's stunning, and it's where my soul belongs, I want one day far in the future to be buried somewhere near here, with a oak tree only as my place of rest above me, so my soul can flow into it's branches. The full name of Trebah is Trebahwartha, though that's not commonly known these days.
My first memory for certain is on Trebah's back then, private cove, upon the banks of the serenely beautiful and enchanting *******/<--- River, Daphne Demauria (spelling?) country - Frenchman's Creek, where, if you would like me to wax poetic, slender branches of trees, dipping their toes into the quiet waters below where cascades of green tumbling scenery, blah, blah, blah below. (If you need a post about my relationship with this place, another time if you ask for it, I'll wax to your hearts content, especially now, since spring is just round the corner. Hopefully, once I finally work out cut and paste, pictures too, you'll All love it).
Trebah was owned in the 60's by a Gentleman called Mr Donald Healey, owner and founder of the Austin Healey Sports Car Company. He was a dear old fellow. never met him. But I knew he was nevertheless.
So, now you possibly get the first glimmer of my consciousness. And ruddy hell. Ruddy hell, not just do I get born in this paradiasic garden, but hey, I get born in the JW's, third generation, with this thing called paradise after Harmageddon. Hmmmm. Oh and within the correct formatting bit, no, I was'nt actually born in the garden, I was born at home in the converted barn that used to be the pigsty behind the main house.
Can I harumph?
Celtic Mark A Price 37 Harumphs
Was childhood good? It was back then. Upto four years old, having left Trebah when I was 2 (the garden which has left an indeligible impression on me to this day (later)), we moved close by to Maenporth in an old caravan and hence after six months there to Penryn, charter granted 1336AD.
Helston Road. I was young. I remember pulling spiders legs off their body's (now, can't even squat fly), on the flat roof. I remember my darling sister of 2.5 years older, throwing me in the stinging nettles, hmmmmmm, the Celt grins, I love my sister, and I don't say that too often, (she's still in, shame)), I remember being most terribly scared stiff the second anyone outside the household came visiting, how I would scarper upstairs, too terrified to come down, even after two hours of coaxeing (phonetic coke'sing, not sure of spelling)
I know for sure I was a very sunny natured child. Looking back, very, very, naive and innocent. I know I loved people, I just didn't know then, and now too, how to relate to them fully.
Those formative years were pleasant enough, would have been better if my parents argued less, and learn't to get on with one another, rather than those prolonged dreadful to my ears back then, arguments. (I can't stand arguments, for arguments sake, to this day, though, as you know, I can talk the hind leg off a donkey)
I remember poking dad in the ribs once with the paradise book in my lap, always an avid reader, plenty of slaps for reading the wrong society publications at the time when I was supposed to be following what the boring speaker was on about. Cross referencing I guess, even back then. I digress. No, I don't. (Correct formatting explanation). 'Dad, what's a dinosaur doing there?'. Hmmmm, great reply dad, ruddy great ruddu rubby crummy ruddy reply dad, the young Mark exclamated inside.
I didn't like the brothers loos. This was the place you got beaten too often and humiliated walking back up the isle balling your eyes out too tired, and not fully understanding why everything had to be so controlled.
I was twelve when, for me, it really got bad. Maybe, it isn't bad to others, from their own individual point of view, what I went through might be tame in comparison, I accept that, and empathise, anyway, when I was twelve, the book study was studying the booklet, - Unseen Spirits, Do they Help Us Or Do They Harm Us, (blue and white cover).
I don't know if I can put it into words, I'm trying to write here intuitively, just speaking my mind as best I can. That study and booklet FREAKED me right out. Here there were, invisible demonic forces out to get me, I was so terrified, you know what it was like, the daymares, nightmares, we've all been there. Even my mother stopped me from going to the group study for 3 weeks until the disturbing material being 'discussed' had passed, my pleas not to go, went unheeded. (Mother very devout, still in, they're in the bedroom next door in fact, harumph, & btw a harumph is not a grumble, not with this grin it's not, I just sigh harumpheses (?).
At twelve, it felt that I saw my life go off in one direction, and saw my path, my life, literally being taken over by something else. Before on here, and to the psychologist long ago, I described it as spiritual rape, a term, I believe holds much accuracy.
Of course, much of life within me, around me, was going on completely 'normally', what they, my parents didn't see was how suicidal I was feeling constantly, at 14 I was smashing my head, head butting walls to try to block out the internal distresses within.
I wanted help. And knew it too. I asked for it. But was told no. See the elders. Etc etc etc.
I was still a very giving person on the inside, loved others, but I guess, though I knew it not then, some cynism came into my life in some form back then, this goes back to the trust issues and distrust of others, I guess that's where that started. Hmmmmm. (and the inner mother father inner child conflicts)
Celtic sighs long and slowly.
Hmmmm, havn't thought about this in quite some while.
I'm going to leave it there for now, my intuition just played this feeling through me to stop for now, as the insurgence of old memories by writing about my past, brought up difficulties, I need a rest now, sorry, will post more when I can in the next day or so, over the weekend.
Kindest regards and best wishes to you all
Mark Price Falmouth Cornwall UK [email protected] or [email protected] / http://www.can-online.org.uk