Wooden boat ashore pebble beach

Food glorious food, the best way to start a heart-warming BAD day!

Full bellies, shingles scrunching under our feet, heading towards the sea. Vast horizon before of us, the nuclear station at the back. Collecting seashells en route, just as Dereck Jarman would have done, before reaching his Prospect cottage.

Silenced by the stark beauty of the garden, its rusty chains and the wooden vessel, bright plants in the grey of winter, longing for a presence who is not there anymore.

Busy old fool, unruly Sun, Why dost thou thus, Through windows, and through curtains, call on us? Must to thy motions lovers’ seasons run?
John Donne, The Sun Rising

Here is the place, a space for a listening ritual, renewing a commitment to who we are, our values, how we are connected to Scarabeus and each other.

A day of laughter and deep listening, of lightness of being in the bleak inspiring Dungeness landscape. Light as a feather, solid as a stone. Thank you Dereck.