Posts by Maragold

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UKHippy is a long running online community and of likeminded people exploring all interpretations on what it means to be living an alternative lifestyle -- we welcome discussions on everything related to sustainability, the environment, alternative spirituality, music, festivals, politics and more -- membership of this website is free but supported by the community.

    Went to the last folk session for me until the plague recedes last Monday evening. I don't think I've ever sung so happily or so well. I didn't have anything with me (didn't think I'd be asked, as I was a guest and never been) but dang. I went through whatever I could remember and once I got the wifi working on phone added in proper folk as I needed the lyrics. There was a great mix there and everyone seemed to have a touch of the muse.

    I realise part of the high was just being oxygenated by singing... still it was so, so great to have perfect strangers appreciate a noob. It helped a little that my friend is a regular and plays blues - my blues attempts weren't out of place.

    I've been away from here and a lot of places due to depression biting down pretty hard, but I'm a bit better now. It was bittersweet knowing no venues will be open for a while after a magical night. However, there's nothing stopping me from practicing more, maybe when we come out the other side I'll have a whole new reppy-twar?

    Never smoked tobacco (tried) although my mother and four out of five brothers do/did.

    Haven't smoked anything "nice" in 28 years, with one hit taken last Xmas that did nothing but mild elation. It made me paranoid more than once back in the day; would not like to rely on THC for pain. I envy people who partied hearty and enjoyed it, bless your tie-dyed sox.

    Alcohol just makes me feel tired. The ex's crazy ideas about what was OK put me off it permanently. I enjoy a drink, spirit with lots of mixer - but with meds I can't really have more than one so it's not a regular thing. Two, maybe three drinks a month? So £15 give or take.

    I like how people are saying things changed as they went along, either type or quantity, or they decided early it wasn't for them. So many different ways and means in one group! No sheep-think here :-)

    Not from my childhood in the 60s-70s, nothing would fit! I have my mother's tartan scarf from the 50s, several berets, scarves and gloves worn by my auntie in the 80s, 90s stuff includes bias cut dress in a classic print, a black crepe skirt, a beaded dress and long jacket for the once-in-a-blue-moon formal evening. Not a safe thing to admit, but I have a lot of clothes, likely more than the average UKH, because of singing and working in offices with rules. I do sew a lot of my clothes, and mend and alter my charity shop finds.

    I repair things when there's some wear left in them. When the upper part of my white cotton nighties finally dissolved, I made bloomers from the lower end, getting almost two decades out of my initial purchase - however, that quality of fabric is extremely hard to find. The cotton industry never recovered from the crash and bad harvests in 2008-2010. I look for victorian repro nighties made for Past Times, in charities and online. They used a type of percale, tightly woven but thin cotton, that lasts and lasts and can be bleached occasionally (if you don't mind fading the omnipresent embroidery).

    I agree about socks, if the bottoms are wearing out there's not much you can do. I had some bamboo-fiber sox that holed after two wearings, an eco-disaster!

    Hand-made knitted sox are precious, and totally worth darning. Get you a wooden egg and start stitching, tutorials are on line. I wish I was friends with a sock knitter, I'd ask for sox every birthday and Xmas!

    I can't think of anything more likely to give you an out-of-body experience than a punch in the chops! Glad the police threw the book at your GBHer, anyone who plans to hurt someone and also takes down bystanders needs more than a few nights in an Anger Management class. Also he went to the same local A&E as you? Murderous AND stupid.

    Hope you heal quickly - and can relax in that place enough to get your meditation mojo going! Honey in your mouth might soothe those cuts, or if you need more relief to eat properly, baby teething gel will numb it.

    (musing) My ex joined all the mindfulness groups around this smallish town, so I don't feel good about going, even though it's constantly recommended. Gord knows what he told people about me, and he was openly flirting with the leader of one group. I promise I will not punch her if I do join up (she was not remotely interested in him, and neither am I).

    14C, clear and breezy, a few fast-moving cumulus clouds, mid-Cornwall. I haven't been outside today which I will regret later (gulps another Vit D). The last four or five days have been Sudden Deluges Which Last 7.26 Minutes Unleashing Serious Amounts of Rain, but no ongoing drizzley stuff. Slowly cooling. Looks like more of the same all next week, super sunny-pants. Yay?

    I think arse candles could maybe cure haemorrhoids, like ear candling cures ... ears. Let's stick 'em in and find out? Don't fart, though, it's not covered on the risk register. Signed, Illuminated From Within (tm)

    I had a lot of mental restrictions around what was 'right' and 'good' because they didn't align with the Gnome's, who finally buggered off and took his right and good with him - he's all holy now, meditating full time in Totnes. I started my own religion last November, Deer Gaudism. It's fairly straightforward, no dogma, just a lot of chanting along the lines of "I'm-ok-you're-ok-Boris-not-so-much" and "One-two-three-what-are-we-fighting-for" and my favourite, "Shame-shame, the-brazen-little-raisin" which is a very traditional chant from the 40s when four monks in spats refined the tune. Deer Gaud (in case you were wondering, I know I did!) is a clear plastic stag's head with glitter water inside that spins around while LEDs shine. A friend asked, Is he omnipotent? and I had to reply he was in fact plastic. A Gaud for our times. Also not a proselytising religion - current congregation of 1.

    Kidding aside, Deer Gaud was someone to talk to after the Gnome's callous, unexplained discard, when I had a lot to say.

    I'm trying to support myself as a technical writer, but it's gone seriously skee-whiff (coff brexit coff) so change is coming. I'm glad the forum's back up - I want to chat with people who aren't an echo chamber of Guardian-level spirituality and have tried-and-tested philosophies. I need your brand of truth-telling because you all are living it, not reading it in the Sunday paper of your choice. <3


    Oh look ^ ^ ^ ^ It's the Sun and Moon. They have papier maché faces and charity shop jewels. The Sun's face is a mask held on with Velcro - a battery votive flickers behind his eyes and in one hand. The Moon is also known as Keef Moon, and I cuddle him every time I take him out his box. Yes those are googly eyes. Creepy AF but the Moon is kind of odd for real, I think. We only ever see one side.

    Maggi, you made me like orange along with your lovely jewel colours on that quilt! I need to finish more Household Gauds. They are a mixture of art dolls, found materials and too much time alone as a child reading Greek myths and Grimm's unedited fairy tales.


    This is the back of the Gaud of the Night Garden. His attribute, Sluggo, leaves a trail of glitter-slime. I actually felt sick making the slug, I really don't like them! Moths decorate the Gaud's shirt. His face is a Green Man resin deco I bought in Mevagissey many years ago now. His hair is bay leaves from a very tiny tree in my former rental.


    I asked to have some hypnosis from my long-term therapist regarding life stuff. She asked me to imagine my safe place, my place of beauty where I go, and, um, I couldn't. I don't have one. Kinda ended that session early! Reading your posts I realise I do notice the beauty in any bit of landscape, every time I go out I appreciate sky-scapes and blackberries and Cornish gutter-gardens. I have crept out at night to see meteor showers and the red moon. When I walk into town, I admire the way the humanised surface meshes (or doesn't) with the earth below and sky above, but there is no place in my head I go to or dream about. I have no happy place. Therapist didn't think it was that weird, but I never heard anyone admit they didn't have one. :/

    Cheers, kind people! I took wood shop in school (girls were not allowed to take metal shop in the mid 70s, grr), and also did technical theatre for ten years in pre-computer days, so I can manage saws and paint, wind cords properly, and know my epoxy from my gorilla snot. What I don't have is hand strength, I have teeny weeny fingers and with age, duff joints - my little Bosch electric screwdriver is my BFF. I don't even try to fix things anymore, because I can't get a safe grip, but I usually know what's wrong. And as we all noted, it's usually something minor!

    This is the Amsterdam model for repair cafés:

    The Sheddies do good work, there was one just starting up in Reading about six years ago. Although I'm not supposed to run a business out of my flat, I don't think the landlord will be terribly fussed if I start taking in hemming and patching. Very scared about what Halloween might bring to my area, e.g. high food and utility prices. I'll need to use every skill I've got to stay afloat! :-)

    Hello again. I'm still in Cornwall, but on my own now and terrified of the future. Which is apparently a sensible thing to feel, but I prefer to try and do something.

    I've been doing volunteering at a local repair café, sponsored by the council. I sew and do clothing and textile repairs, 90% of my clothes are made by me or from charity shops. Other repairers do small electrics, computers, bikes. At the café, the person with the repair is shown how to do it, they don't just drop it off. "Teach a man to fish" or in my case, put in a zipper or hem trousers.

    If only I could find people as good at fixing things as in this thread, I'd be made up. We can't find enough repairers although it's only one day a month.

    Semi-related - some areas have had successful tool-sharing schemes, "tool libraries". I do understand keeping your own tools used regularly, but things only used a couple times a year, or for big one-off projects, should be shared if possible. Storage space and finding a monitor is hard but worth trying? I would definitely have donated one of my sewing machines to a tool library if there was one, I sold it for a tenner instead. :-(

    I'll dig up links on the repair café, to start your own, if there's any interest. I am really touched this site has been going on so long and with such good heart. <3

    Depressed is how I feel, but I know it's my normal annual Missing Mum Moment and freaking allergies. I did some retail therapy: TKMaxx had the scented begonias I've been wanting, as well a pot and dirt for 7.99. There's no guarantee they will have a smell, but the joy is in trying, or so I'm told.

    I did spent half an hour swearing at gulls in Falmouth on Thursday. Fukaz wanted my sun chips. No. None for you, Beaky McBeakface, get your intake elsewhere. Tell your Mrs to stop eyeballing me, too. Asswhole.

    And Tuesday was open michael for me, I didn't sing just listened. It was a completely different feel than the last time, people were chattier and fiesty as ... as... hungry gulls. Spring has sprung in Pirateville.

    Roamer n Lighty sittin' in a tree, k-i-s-s-i OH THERE YOU ARE.
    Well, I knew I had a Real name but it was only used when I was in trouble, so I was Mimsy to anyone who was anybody. Then I went to school and guess wot, No nicks allowed. I felt like I was in trouble all the time. Teacher was an old adamant fart. They retired her the following year. She cried about it in class. It was the first time I felt no sympathy with a sad person. She'd insisted on Trouble Name and did so using High Dudgeon in front of the whole class. Who never let me forget it. BASTURDS.
    Anyway. Mimsy became Fancy 15 years ago. Only work folk call me Real Name, which I changed for Trouble Name in 1986. Life is better with three non-hurtful names. :-)

    Listening to the plumbing while the Gnome prepares for his evening meditation, and letting dinner settle. Lasagne, me-made. The kale on the side was too bolshy. At least the cats are used to my botty burps.

    For the last few years this question has stumped the hell out of me. I have so many of the things I wanted. I'm in Cornwall wit da pixies. I'm not the youngest, stupidest person in the room anymore... I think I would run a school for hippies. Kind of like a tech college where you learn to hold your cider, inhale slowly, bodge things out of rubbish, stay up all night playing bodrans and sakbutts and digeridoos. Your degree final would always be how to get to Glastonbury on £10 and sack of tofu sammiches. Not even kidding.

    Horses are bloody brilliant, pls have this pamphlet splains it all. (hands out well-used pamphlets then immediately collects em again) I don't know what your horsie job is, Roamer, but if it involves slippin me sugagnobs, I approve!

    Alla youse stay warm. When I was six I was moved to the attic room in a shitty timberframe house. No heat except what came up the stairs. I hates being cold, can't sleep when cold and feel all the neggy feels. Don't like to be stuffy either - 17C is comfy but not less, ok?
    I'm in the front room listening to cat having a bath, with the gas fire on and a hella draft from the Grade 2 listed window -time to pull them curtains to!

    Quiet day. Took the tree and decos down because they are dusty and I'm sleepin in the front room now. Allergies.
    There was a blackbird and two good-sized bluetits feasting on various bits in the back garden. They fled when I threw the xmas tree box into the shed. I have been informed a fake tree has the same carbon footprint as 10 real ones. This is a Tesco Rocky Mountain Slim tree, so maybe only seven years? If so, I'm good now, carbonally speaking. Should get another couple years out of it. Funny thing is it sheds needles like the real thing.

    Turned the calendar over and let the change of days happen in my head. In my heart it's only just past midwinter so still inside the same Season. Early Spring always feels like a new year to me, or the first cool autumnal day. If winter solstice meant everything is gonna start bustin out all over in a few days, I could get behind it as a new year. But it's just a few minutes of sunlight and three months of mud before things really change up.

    I might feel better if I get some vines to cover the ugly-ass, xmas-tree-hiding shed. I like scent, so was thinking honeysuckle. There's room for it to go bonkers (shed with dunny behind). I want something bees like, that blooms for more than five minutes.

    (opens seed&plant website and goes back to hibernation)

    Your business survived, you trust your wife, that's two things. Find a third and breathe a little easier, Paul <3 <3

    Although a lot of people passed this year, a lot were 80 or older, very ill, or had drug issues. If they had all died in freak accidents, car crashes, lightning strikes, or violence, I'd be MUCH more concerned about this statistical blip.
    Yet I never want to let go of even the oldest pet. That's never easy. Heart goes out to all the people who lost loved ones with four legs, this and every year.

    I like some of the rituals that involve light and sharing. There's not nearly enough of them though. I celebrate Xmas at home with familiar things. Lights. I like da lights.
    I knew when I was six that religion was playing pretend because the preparation for first communion was exactly the same as preparing to be in the class play. Memorise this; wear that; walk here, stop there. Don't mess up or everyone will hate you and you'll go to hell. Do well and there's a party afterward. AND THERE WAS.
    The real death knell of belief was feeling like a sentient fart in every house of worship I went into, completely excess to requirements. Including Stonehenge, sadly. I also feel that way in health food stores, pariah! Trafe!
    I'm making a series of what I call Household Gauds that will help me think through some of the finer points of the journey from Catholicism to Household Gaudism. HG is really simple. You believe in whatever you want: the only rule is to keep it to yourself.

    Ponies, the bitter animal.

    My son is one a those struggling, so yeah, thoughts are spared and kindness shared. Now that I are in Cornwall land, if thou be a UK Hippy, name thyself and thou shalt be shown mercy in mine house. (hands out chocolate coins and plastic fivers).

    This is gonna sound weird but it's something so easily shared - I've been listening to this internet radio station with the oddest mix of oldies and German pop shit and crusty folk. We've been Donovaned and Waterboyed and people we didn't even know tonight, along with 60s trumpet-heavy instrumentals, 50s cheerful do-woppies, wotta mix! But here's the thing: I have no idea how to find this station except through vTuner Internet Radio Go to genre, click Folk, on page 2 of a bazillion listings HOLY SHITE BLACK SABBATH NOW WE JUST HAD JOAN BAEZ?! look for Asher Otto Radio. Click. Listen. Only one ad on the hour and it's in German, if you sprecken maybe it ID's the station? OMG BS segued into Canned Fukin Heat, Goin up the Country. OMG.
    Now here's the mystery: Asher Otto is a current, legit singer with a band. And AFAIK is never, ever played on this station. So it's some sort of vTuner typo. Anyway. If the eclectic don't get you then the culture clash will.
    Canned Heat is now the Who - I'm Free. INDEED.

    Nize van! Bambi has been et, it's too warm for the fire. Mini-puds then muddled wine then wargrblezzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

    Agree about feeling company-frazzled, were here not six weeks and a brother landed for five days. Didn't know the house that well yet and wasn't sure how to be hostess with mostest. It was fine, but man. I wanted to join a cloister after.