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It’s three days shy of a  year and a hundred posts since this blog rolled into digital existence. The original idea was  to write the odd vignette and supplement with photos and commentary when the muse,Demelza, had other things on her mind. Yes, you are right she has either gone on a long surf trip or decided there are more receptive surfer/skaters out there.

Motivations for this strangely  obsessive activity have always been kept firmly locked away in the cupboard daubed ”embarrassingly self referential introspection”.

Like most locked cupboards though it is just too tempting not to take a peek inside. The creaky butt hinges and the peeling paint to the cupboard doors give a clue to the history of these hidden items. A musty smell wafts from the interior.The odours of perishable memories blend with still intact but shelf worn fantasy. The background tang of reality makes the aroma not unpleasing to the nostrils for some.The puzzling thing is that the cupboard is empty for the most part. A few objects catch the eye. The boards are leant in a corner  colours faded from ding repairs, coping worn, muddy and slathered with dirty wax. They have seen some action and will take it’s rider on more adventures yet. Even that yellowing clear 7′ 6” gun, hung from the rafters, is only resting, waiting for the day to revisit it’s Basque river mouth homeland. On the dusty floor is some yellowed notebook paper. The paper is ruled in the way that school exercise books used to be. The pages are liberally dotted with ink blots and creased but each side is covered with clumsily formed fountain pen script. It is the writing of an unengaged youth. Scrawled under dim lights whilst looking out of the window where real and imagined things are happening without him.The possibility of endless adventure ignored inside because of the bland two dimensional appearance of exercise book paper. The detritus of the modern man/child is distributed along the other walls. There are wetsuits bright enough for a clown, technical bikes shrouded in dirt and a Banksie picture covered in cellophane carelessly placed next to the spare parts.  It is a quiet place, unenhanced from the intrusions of friends and family.

So much for motivation. Demelza, I’m coming to find you!