Tea by Post #1

My mother went to university before the advent of Skype, text messages and BBM. While she was ensconced in the Midlands, filling her head with languages and meeting my dad, her best friend had travelled further afield, to Bristol in fact. They kept in touch by letter, and I remember my mum once mentioning posting digestive biscuits along with letters. They arrived crumbled, but you had something to dunk in your tea as you read the letter.

I've done it myself before. Once I posted my friend some bourbon biscuits wrapped in foil, notepaper and words (unfortunately for her, her dog managed to get through the wrappings before she did!). Recently, however, I was discussing fruit tea flavours with a friend and struck upon the idea of posting teabags. That way, you get the cup of tea. You might not want to dunk your Hobnobs in lemon and ginger Twining's, though.

And so, a couple of weeks ago, I parcelled up my first Tea by Post and sent it to Adam. My Bristol tea collection is pretty limited, but I managed a selection and added my own labels and a couple of other bits and pieces (Mo Farah meeting David Cameron plus washi tape equals fun, right? Right?!).

Lipton apple and cinnamon, Health & Heather lemon and ginger and the Mystery Tea (Clipper raspberry leaf, my favourite fruit tea)

Pop a letter in with the tea!

The following day, the fruity treats fell onto Adam's doormat and not long after that I received more tea in return, including cherry and cinnamon, which I'd dropped hints about (it's Twining's and is now a serious contender for favourite tea. Raspberry leaf had better watch its back). I took some to work and sat out in the sunshine at lunchtime, slurping warm, fruity tea with my sunglasses on. It was a delight. I'm about to try the orange, mango and cinnamon and I also received camomile and spiced apple (about which I am dubious but I'm hoping it will convert me into a camomile lover) and a Mystery Tea, which I have yet to taste. Exciting! Of course, there was also an owl postcard because no-one dares to post me anything without an owl involved somewhere.

A week or so later, I collected a parcel from the sorting office: my mum had sent me down some of my felts and embroidery yarns. In the package, she'd included some more of my tea collection. She was getting in on Tea by Post without realising! And now I have a few more treats to send to Adam. It is my turn, after all.

Yours over a cup of tea,

Picnic for one: exploring the Downs

I'd spent weeks brushing off disbelief that I'd never been to the Downs, and the weather was glorious last weekend, with azure skies stretching beyond the hilly streets, so I packed a picnic and took myself off on an adventure.

I trekked through the grass, drinking in the scenery, until I reached the cliffs and could see out over the Avon Gorge across to Clifton Suspension Bridge in one direction and blue haze and wind turbines in the other. Above my head, birds wheeled and dived.

The Observatory

I had hoped to go in the observatory, which houses a camera obscura, but alas it is undergoing maintenance at the moment. I hope I don't have long to wait before I can venture inside. Years ago, I was involved in a few youth film projects and the couple who ran some of the events had built a camera obscura in the attic of the building they rented as their studio. I'll never forget the magical, almost slow-mo feel as I watched passers-by, tiny as pinpricks, drift along, upside down on the sheet that hung on the back wall of the attic room.

Of course, this being Bristol, I saw a whole family of hot air balloons, floating out above the city. I followed them up to the observatory and then out across the suspension bridge. I had to avoid looking directly out over the Avon Gorge as I crossed the bridge, giddy with the height and the void beneath me.

Overlooking Clifton Suspension Bridge from Clifton Downs

Picnic for one: a pasty from Joe's Bakery

Sitting above the bridge, the breeze cooling my prickling skin and a gasp catching in my throat - partly at the views over the Gorge and city and partly because I'm probably not in the best of shapes - I pulled out my picnic: a spicy vegetable pasty from Joe's Bakery on Gloucester Road, a carton of Rubicon Passion (my favourite, I've a can of it sitting next to me as I type this) and an apple picked from the tree in my garden. I took in the views - and the pasty - before making my way down the hill into Clifton for the first time.

I wended my way through the streets, constantly a little bit lost and referring to my A-Z, until I stumbled upon a place I remembered: back in April, I made a fleeting visit to this beautiful city; my first. I was here for an interview: the one that got me the job I'm now in, and a friend of mine who studies here showed me a few of the sites, limited by time and the fact that his patch doesn't stretch far from the Bristol University buildings. He eagerly showed me what I call the "mirrored garden", which some hasty Googling informs me is actually Royal Fort Gardens, owned by the university.

I hurried in towards the glistening maze, but was halted in my tracks by a city fox. We gazed at eachother for what felt like a million forevers, until it startled and sprang away into the undergrowth.

Royal Fort Gardens

My sturdiest, comfiest shoes for adventures

By now, I had been walking for four hours and it was almost time to wind down for the night. The sun was just beginning to slip out of reach as I dragged my Doc Marten'd feet down into town and boarded the bus with a weary sigh. I have so much more of the Downs to explore. Perhaps next time I'll take a friend, or a flask. I hope that I'll be able to get inside the observatory soon, or venture down to St. Vincent's cave. Maybe I'll follow one of the nature trails. There's so much to discover.

What are your favourite patches of wilderness tucked away in the city? Is a park enough greenery for you? I'm sure the Downs will serve me well when I hunger for the lush, rolling fields I grew up amongst.

BIOSKOP: the drifting cinema settles for an evening of film

From the Cube Cinema listings

On Sunday evening, I had a feeling that Bristol would be alive with a thousand dancing feet, shared drinks and raucous screeches, but a night on the tiles wasn't really what I had in mind for my bank holiday eve. By chance, I happened upon a tweet by the Cube Cinema, announcing that their drifting cinema, the Bioskop, would be putting down its roots for the night in Riverside Park, an area I'd been warned was a little on the shadier side. On their blog, the Bioskop admit that they chose the location for this screening with this in mind:  at night, it "isn't somewhere you feel comfortable hanging around in, it's somewhere you pass through to get somewhere else."

As it would happen, this was an apt setting for a screening of Agnes Varda's "Vagabond" (1985). Not for those who begrudge a subtitled film, Vagabond paints a picture of Mona, a young, homeless woman on the road through the French winter, from only the glimpses strangers have had into the last few weeks of her life.
Personally, I love French films (if they're good!) because I'm somewhat of a Francophile and enjoy picking up snippets that are lost in translation with the French that I know (I studied it to A level so I'm far from bilingual but I try to keep it up with the odd French magazine or holiday).

The Bioskop is a wonderful project and was a lovely way to spend an evening: my friend and I huddled on a blanket beneath the trees with the other viewers, clutching plastic cups and shop-bought snacks. Most people arrived for about 7.30pm and then we sat and chattered until the sun set and it was dark enough to clearly see the film projected on a tightly-stretched sheet in the trees.

Vagabond (1985)

The Bioskop is a free event and is kept under close wraps until the very last minute! Keep up to date by checking back here from time to time, or follow @cubecinema on Twitter.

A bientôt!

ROBROS: the best of pals in all the galaxy

Last week, I mentioned Jim Billy Wheeler's exhibition ROBROS, which was on all last week at SHOP on Christmas Steps. I didn't think I'd get a chance to see it, but as luck would have it Jim held a closing party from around 7pm on Thursday so I scurried down there after work. I was the first to arrive, giving me a chance to get a good look at Jim's adorable renderings of C-3PO and R2-D2 doing best pal activities together: sharing a milkshake with two straws, relaxing in a hot tub and - my favourite - making shadow puppets (I'm dying to get my hands on that one to hang on my wall but sadly had no money at the time).

From Jim's Facebook

There was free cider from Tricky Cider and a rousing performance by the Beau Ties, a Bristol-based a capella quartet with the sweetest voices. I found myself toe-tapping amongst a sea of strangers. The atmosphere was merry as Jim's friends (and me!) all rallied round him. It can be a bit daunting to go along to these things by yourself, but I'm glad that I did.

You can find Jim's work over at his blog and listings of other exhibitions going on in the SHOP artspace at their website.

Making Things Club: broderie anglaise and Turkish apple tea

Whilst browsing various blogs and websites last week, I stumbled across the events listings on the Café Kino website. Kino is a non-profit workers' co-op and vegan paradise (I'd guess: I'm not vegan myself but I am lactose intolerant so it's always great to find tasty, dairy-free options when eating/drinking out) in Stokes Croft. A cute banner advertised Making Things Club, a monthly craft meet where, for a measly five pounds, you have access to all the craft materials you could dream of and can make things to your hearts content for a few hours with like-minded folk, and, this month, very lovely live music from the Weary Band.

 Delighted by the idea, I put a fiver to one side and went along to Café Kino for the very first time yesterday evening. The day was hot and sticky and the baking heat showed no signs of abating so I ordered a fresh orange juice, watched it being squeezed, then made my way downstairs to the basement where the club is held. On arrival, a friendship bracelet was knotted around my wrist and I was presented with a goody bag by Lori, one of the founding partners of Making Things Club. I joined a little round table and introduced myself to the women sitting at it, and soon we'd all drifted to the back of the room to rummage through fabrics, sequins, paper and other treasures, deciding on the spot what we were going to make of our finds.

I found a large swathe of broderie anglaise fabric and decided to sew myself a headband from it. I grabbed a heavy, pale blue cotton to line it and a couple of pipe cleaners to give it some structure and allow me to mould it and twist it around my head. Other people had turned up with their knitting, some people began to paint and we all clamoured to have a go on Steve, the badgemaking machine. An encyclopaedia of cats provided lots of cat badges (internet gold) but my favourite source of photos to make into badges was an old beauty magazine from 1979. I also made a broderie anglaise badge to match my headband.

The Weary Band, with Chris making badges in the foreground.

Once we'd all got into the swing of making things, the Weary Band took to the stage and filled the room with dreamy, soft folk music. The atmosphere was wonderful, tucked underground away from the unrelenting heat of the Bristol summer; quiet chatter and excited dashes to the table to find sequins whenever a new idea struck. The band paused for a brief interval and someone put a Field Music record on; I felt very much at home with familiar voices from Tyne and Wear making their way into my ears. I was beginning to worry that I wouldn't finish my headband in the three hours we had at the club- all my sewing things, sadly, had to stay in the Northeast without me- but I managed it! I sipped a Turkish apple tea as the band made their way back onstage. The evening stretched on deliciously and soon there were only a handful of us left, chatting away to Lori and Chris, the founders of the club.

Top: a few of the badges I made; Above: my headband.

Lori runs Tenderfoot, a gift shop and gallery in Brislington (a part of Bristol I have yet to venture to) and Chris is better known as Lazy Crafternoons, providing workshops and craft parties throughout and around Bristol. They make a wonderful team and I for one cannot wait for the next meet, on September 9th!

Perhaps I'll see some of you there!

Foraging and foraying: exploring Bristol

Having yet to complete my first month of work, I'm in that frustrating period of working full-time and having nothing to show for it- and no disposable income to play with! But that couldn't keep me indoors on my days off and I have set out to find a chain of treasure troves where I might spend a little of my wages when I finally receive them. I'm a sucker for a well-set-out vintage shop: but only one holding homeware as well as oversized sweatshirts and angry-seeming knitted jumpers. Along Gloucester Road there are many vintage boutiques and charity shops, which I intend to explore with vigour once I have a bit of change in my pocket.

However, I couldn't resist peeking in a couple of places and one has already become a firm favourite, a place to pore over old tobacco tins, vintage lights and suitcases and let myself drift off to bygone times when telly was in black and white and wallpaper was never understated. This is RePsycho, the "retro superstore" in Bishopston. On my first visit, fresh from the Northeast and reeling from the distance to my loved ones, I thumbed through the vintage postcard rack by the shop entrance and found a postcard commemorating the West Stanley pit disaster. It seems a bit of a morbid card to affix above your bed but it feels like a tiny slice of home and now has pride of place next to a photo I took of the Tyne Bridge only a couple of months ago.

RePsycho on Gloucester Road

Tin treasures at RePsycho

A postcard of home: 50p from RePsycho's collection of vintage postcards

 My next find is right in the heart of Bristol: SHOP on Christmas Steps, the arts quarter. I'd peered in the window before but yesterday I ventured over the threshold to gasp in wonder. SHOP are a self-proclaimed "vintage lounge and arts venue" and non-profit company: all the money made in the space (because it is more than just a shop!) is channelled back into community arts. One thing that really delighted me was the little corner they have transformed into a zine library, but I'm cursing myself now for not stopping to sit and read awhile (my excuse? I wanted to get back up Gloucester Road before the greengrocer's shut - I love having access to free, fresh produce once more). On sale in the shop are men's and women's vintage clothes, scarves, jewellery and all sorts of other bits and pieces including old film and television photographs. Through  a door to your left (as you're standing, having just entered the shop) is the dedicated arts space, currently home to Robros (see poster below), although not for long. Catch it if you can, because, sadly, it looks like I won't!

SHOP on Christmas Steps

Robros @ SHOP until 16th August

Christmas Steps

It certainly looks like Bristol has a lot to offer me- or anyone! For now, I'll be prowling the streets taking note of posters and looking for things and places to attend. Watch this space!

Rebirth

After announcing my arrival, I've been somewhat absent. I faced perhaps the hardest part of my journey: finding it in me to accept change and free myself. I have been swallowed whole by this beautiful city and its balmy evenings, whizzing cyclists, "funny accents" and bars spilling out cider, laughter and live music onto the streets.

A week ago, I struggled to think of change as a good thing, a new chapter of my adventure. My pillow became salty and streaked with make-up and I turned to a friend for help. And she gave me it. She rushed in from the wings (London) to hold me and remind me I'm here and I'm alive and I'm going to make this city my own story.

The Bear Pit

Bristol is its own paradise and I have tasted only a moment of that paradise. Stokes Croft is overflowing with bars and cafés and possibilities. On my pressing list of things I simply must do in Bristol: Café Kino, which comes highly recommended by a new friend of mine; Cox and Baloney's Vintage Boutique and Tearoom, which is only open on the days that I work but doesn't shut until 6pm so might get a flying visit from me; an evening stroll along the harbourside and perhaps a trip to the Apple; a day in one of the many lush parks, with a book and some time; anything and everything this city has to offer me.

It can be easy to curl up in the groove you've worn for yourself and mourn the places and people you've left behind, and the people you can't hold onto after all. This past week I've unpeeled myself from that rut and hurled myself into Bristol face-first. I've not been too shy or proud to tell people: "I'm new here, I need help." I've been lucky and people have been friendly. I ambled into a party held by some colleagues I'd never actually met, hair wired up into "Pippi Longstocking" pigtails (fancy dress, beginning with 'p'), merrily befriended all the night-shifters, lost my shoes and laughed and danced and found the person with amaretto (a talent of mine, I feel). I broke the ice and, in the last week, I've been to the cinema and to restaurants and to explore the Park Street charity shops. I'm feeling more at home. I'm feeling like I will have friends. I'm feeling like anything could happen.

I'm feeling on the cusp of rebirth.