November 2009 - Lizard Point
In November 2009 I managed to get my first serious girlfriend. I wanted to recreate this, but didn't have the energy to be really creative about it, so I decided to simply call her as I haven't spoken to her for a long time, despite the fact that the back pack I have been carrying for the last 43 days is borrowed from her! (Hence the purple!). Unfortunately she didn't pick up, but it was quite a meaningful moment for me as I have such fond memories of our courtship.
November 2009 - Lizard
My first kiss was an incredibly embarrassing few minutes of my life. Largely because I had no idea what I was doing. Perhaps it is supposed to be some natural bodily reaction that happens spontaneously without thought. I since think that really it is, however for a 16 year old living in western society the hugely anticipated "First Kiss" is supposed to be a magical moment that you will never forget. Its due to this huge hype encouraged by the media and parents alike that as a 16 year old I really felt that I ought to know how to do it and be prepared before this magical moment. Being very shy about this sort of thing my only source of education were romantic movies. And from what I could see, a French kiss basically involved hiding your teeth (like you used to do in the playground to pretend you were a grandma) and attempting to bite the other persons lips using only your own lips, like some sort of weird nursing home party game- it turns out I was horribly mistaken! The moment arrived, she looked at me, her whole body including her face were screaming at me "COME ON YOU PUFF JUST KISS ME FOR GODS SAKE"... I went for it. Unsurprisingly she didn't really enjoy being eaten by a grandma.
I have this burning memory of her bright red face as I pulled away and of that horrible feeling of blood rushing to my own. I don't get embarrassed that often, but on this occasion I had undoubtedly fallen into a deep pit of shame.
I was sat here in the Pub on the Lizard (which has an unusually fast internet connection) trying to think of a way to remap this embarrassment I had experienced, when like so many times on my walk, it happened for me without my manipulation. When I look back on it now, I think that maybe I was taking the piss a little to have just bought half a pint and asked for the WiFi code, because when the bar lady found me at the back of the pub 4 hours later she was not impressed. "Don't you think maybe you had your half pints worth mate? I'm gunna have to ask you to leave please". This was the first time I have been thrown out of a pub. And just like my first kiss, my face flooded with blood, but strangely so did the bar lady's. We both froze, her face relatively close to mine, looked into each others eyes and together endured the embarrassment of the moment. I had had my first kiss, and it was just as embarrassing as I remembered.
I have this burning memory of her bright red face as I pulled away and of that horrible feeling of blood rushing to my own. I don't get embarrassed that often, but on this occasion I had undoubtedly fallen into a deep pit of shame.
I was sat here in the Pub on the Lizard (which has an unusually fast internet connection) trying to think of a way to remap this embarrassment I had experienced, when like so many times on my walk, it happened for me without my manipulation. When I look back on it now, I think that maybe I was taking the piss a little to have just bought half a pint and asked for the WiFi code, because when the bar lady found me at the back of the pub 4 hours later she was not impressed. "Don't you think maybe you had your half pints worth mate? I'm gunna have to ask you to leave please". This was the first time I have been thrown out of a pub. And just like my first kiss, my face flooded with blood, but strangely so did the bar lady's. We both froze, her face relatively close to mine, looked into each others eyes and together endured the embarrassment of the moment. I had had my first kiss, and it was just as embarrassing as I remembered.
July 2009 - Mullion
Today was one of those days when everything was going wrong, but not end of the world things, just annoying little things, so despite some minor emotional trauma I still had a really nice day. I stayed with two of the most lovely people I have stayed with so far last night in Porthleven. A lady named Sarah who is currently half way through renovating her cottage, and her friend Emily who has so kindly come down from Portsmouth to help her. And of course there two dogs. I met them first thing yesterday morning as I was brushing my teeth overlooking Praa Sands. After hearing a very quick and minty description of my walk they really kindly offered that I could sleep in the renovated cottage next to the wood burner (which was heavenly!). So I met them in the pub in Porthleven that evening and that was it. We had a great time and talked lots about some life issues very important to me to do with money and our destination driven society. I won't go into it now because I'm quite tired (This has been a real problem on the project by the way! I always try to write my blog at night and I'm always knackered! I really should try doing some first thing in the morning blogs, or perhaps some afternoon tea blogs. The problem is that day light is so precious to me and I just want to be out there all the time!) Anyway.... it was so refreshing to meet these two people by chance and to so quickly feel a real connection with them, and to find that we shared a lot of feelings and thoughts about life which was awesome. So although feeling quite sad to leave them, I set off this morning feeling overall very happy.
I'd been walking about 10 minutes when the problems began, watch the video below this post for the gory details, but basically, I'd eaten a huge amount... and the public toilets were closed, enough said. However in the process of my pooey tom foolery, I had managed to completely tear my trousers meaning I now had a massive hole between my legs. I pressed on none the less, and although a little cold in my lower region I was still feeling quite happy. However when I stopped for lunch I was struck by an awful realisation. In my hurry to leave the scene of my embarrassing incident I had left my little gardening trowel behind. And its not just any gardening trowel, it is my Grandad's, which I had borrowed for my walk and promised to return. My Grandad has been a gardener for most of his life, and I grew up watching him work and developed a deep respect for him and his very understated but beautifully natural relationship with gardens and nature. I love him very much, although I really don't show him that enough. I was overcome by an unbelievable sadness today when I realised what I had done. It was an old trowel and could well be very special to him. But even if it wasn't it was very important to me as it reminded me of him every time I used it. I spent a good 10 minutes considering whether it was fisable to walk back and get it as I knew exactly where I had left it. But I had walked 5 miles on along the path now, so I had to face the fact that for now it is lost. I still feel unbelievably bad about this and it makes me so sad just to think of how it might upset him not to get it back. I will of course buy him a new one, but for him and for me, it won't be the same. I'm sorry Grandad.
I began to eat my lunch overcome by this sadness when I suddenly felt really light headed. I'm not quite sure what happened over the next few minutes as I think I sort of consciously blacked out if that's possible. Anyway, from that incident, combined with the several over distressing episodes involving locked toilets, no loo roll, and stomach aches that occurred today, I think I can deduce that finally I am a little bit ill.
I've been walking for 40 days and 40 nights now, so it was bound to catch up with my body at some point. But I'm fine really, some pretty serious stomach aches, but I'll live I'm sure. I'm staying with a lady called Suzy and her two sons Noel and Will who are my age and studying at Falmouth Marine School. This reminded me just how close I am now, which I've got really mixed feelings about. I had great fun a minute ago, sewing my trousers back together. There is nothing more rewarding for me (a boy who is notoriously useless at domestic activities), to be able to try something like sewing and to actually, kinda, pretty much, pull it off! Life is great when you try new things. Fake it till you make it folks.
Anyway, I started today by listening to one of my favourite Bob Dylan songs, and it subsequently became the sound track to my walk today, I was singing it everywhere and really thinking about the words. "And onwards on my journey, I come to understand, that every hair is numbered, like every grain of sand", I find this line particularly personally relevant at the moment. I'm going to finish my day by listening to it now, I'd love for you to do the same...
Here it is - Every Grain of Sand by Bob Dylan
I'd been walking about 10 minutes when the problems began, watch the video below this post for the gory details, but basically, I'd eaten a huge amount... and the public toilets were closed, enough said. However in the process of my pooey tom foolery, I had managed to completely tear my trousers meaning I now had a massive hole between my legs. I pressed on none the less, and although a little cold in my lower region I was still feeling quite happy. However when I stopped for lunch I was struck by an awful realisation. In my hurry to leave the scene of my embarrassing incident I had left my little gardening trowel behind. And its not just any gardening trowel, it is my Grandad's, which I had borrowed for my walk and promised to return. My Grandad has been a gardener for most of his life, and I grew up watching him work and developed a deep respect for him and his very understated but beautifully natural relationship with gardens and nature. I love him very much, although I really don't show him that enough. I was overcome by an unbelievable sadness today when I realised what I had done. It was an old trowel and could well be very special to him. But even if it wasn't it was very important to me as it reminded me of him every time I used it. I spent a good 10 minutes considering whether it was fisable to walk back and get it as I knew exactly where I had left it. But I had walked 5 miles on along the path now, so I had to face the fact that for now it is lost. I still feel unbelievably bad about this and it makes me so sad just to think of how it might upset him not to get it back. I will of course buy him a new one, but for him and for me, it won't be the same. I'm sorry Grandad.
I began to eat my lunch overcome by this sadness when I suddenly felt really light headed. I'm not quite sure what happened over the next few minutes as I think I sort of consciously blacked out if that's possible. Anyway, from that incident, combined with the several over distressing episodes involving locked toilets, no loo roll, and stomach aches that occurred today, I think I can deduce that finally I am a little bit ill.
I've been walking for 40 days and 40 nights now, so it was bound to catch up with my body at some point. But I'm fine really, some pretty serious stomach aches, but I'll live I'm sure. I'm staying with a lady called Suzy and her two sons Noel and Will who are my age and studying at Falmouth Marine School. This reminded me just how close I am now, which I've got really mixed feelings about. I had great fun a minute ago, sewing my trousers back together. There is nothing more rewarding for me (a boy who is notoriously useless at domestic activities), to be able to try something like sewing and to actually, kinda, pretty much, pull it off! Life is great when you try new things. Fake it till you make it folks.
Anyway, I started today by listening to one of my favourite Bob Dylan songs, and it subsequently became the sound track to my walk today, I was singing it everywhere and really thinking about the words. "And onwards on my journey, I come to understand, that every hair is numbered, like every grain of sand", I find this line particularly personally relevant at the moment. I'm going to finish my day by listening to it now, I'd love for you to do the same...
Here it is - Every Grain of Sand by Bob Dylan
June 2009 - Porthleven
EXPLICIT CONTENT WARNING: It's not that bad, but I do go into some slightly uncouth detail which some viewers may find disgusting! I also accidentally swore at the end, so apologies for that (look out for the pause right at the end where my mind battles my mouth as to whether or not I should say it).
January 2009 - Trewavas Head
I was 15 years and 11 months old and I fancied a friend.
This creation took two hours. One hour to write, and then another hour or more trying to record it without stumbling over the words. I finished with 2 almost perfect versions, I couldn't choose one over the other so I'll let you decided which one you watch, they are the same poem with slight variations in words and delivery and a few stumbles in each. Enjoy...
This creation took two hours. One hour to write, and then another hour or more trying to record it without stumbling over the words. I finished with 2 almost perfect versions, I couldn't choose one over the other so I'll let you decided which one you watch, they are the same poem with slight variations in words and delivery and a few stumbles in each. Enjoy...
December 2008 - Praa Sands
I'm 15 years and 11 months old and I've been wanting to camp literally on the coast path with an amazing view for the whole journey, and it looks like tonight I may have found the perfect spot to do this. I'm currently in the sand bar in Praa Sands but am about to walk back up the cliff about 50 yards where the path is wide and overlooks the beautiful beach. I'll wait for the last of the dog walkers to pass and then set up, and hopefully, if the cold isn't too bad, I'll have a great night!! I loved the walk today, the sun was bright, the path was flat and the water was blue, it was lush. I didn't create anything, but I am really less worried about that now. Like I mentioned before I am now really only thinking in terms of seeing the project as one big creation zooming rapidly towards the final performance. So I am giving myself some stress free time to try and get my head around it and get some ideas together. The cold and christmas lights which seem to be appearing everywhere I go are making me think lots about Christmas (i.e being warm and snug, with loads of chocolate and not much stress) so I am feeling a bit half and half at the moment, because don't get me wrong the walk today was lovely, but I am feeling quite content about the project and ready to finish. Only 12 days left, which is comparatively nothing so not long now.
I wonder if I will be emotional when its all over?
Night x
April 2008 - Marazion
If you are interested in the idea of faking it till to make it, this is the short lecture that inspired me to adopt it in my life: http://www.ted.com/talks/amy_cuddy_your_body_language_shapes_who_you_are.html
February 2008 - Penzance
Apologies for my lack of bogging over the last week. For the first time on the project I really let it slip. For the last week or arguably the last 20 years I have been preparing for my 90 minute performance at CAZ in Penzance. That happened last night. I'm very tired now, so I think I'll make a video in the morning to kind of explain how it went - however the main things I drew from it were some ideas of things that don't work and the fact that I am Doctor Who. Don't worry all will be explained in the past. Generally though I feel very positive about how it went, and feel its a great point to now move off from and head towards my final performance in 2 weeks time.
How the next 2 weeks will function I am not entirely sure. Over the last week I've lost steam and speed in terms of my constant short sharp creations and am thinking more about one big creation now. This is i feel a natural development of the project, however I'm not saying I will stop completely making short snappy things, my velocity with those will probably just slow a little from now on.
I am to be honest quite openly ready to stop now. Of course I won't, but after performing last night I kind of feel like I've finished in a way. This feeling might pass when I get back on the path tomorrow.
Untill then,
Goodnight.
How the next 2 weeks will function I am not entirely sure. Over the last week I've lost steam and speed in terms of my constant short sharp creations and am thinking more about one big creation now. This is i feel a natural development of the project, however I'm not saying I will stop completely making short snappy things, my velocity with those will probably just slow a little from now on.
I am to be honest quite openly ready to stop now. Of course I won't, but after performing last night I kind of feel like I've finished in a way. This feeling might pass when I get back on the path tomorrow.
Untill then,
Goodnight.
July 2006 - Mousehole
Last night I was perhaps the most scared I have ever been. I found an ideal wild camping spot. Flat ground, sheltered by a large hedge and out of sight from all neighbouring houses. I have been laid down in my tent, messaging friends on my phone for over two hours, when I heard the shuddering of a cars engine in the distance. Having wild camp alone more than 10 times now my journey, I have learned to be more relaxed about the many suspects noises you here during the night. So as the shadow of the engine through gradually louder I did not falter. It continued to grow louder and louder, I sat up to better listen. As it sped through the gate and into the field I knew it was just over the hedge from me. I clenched my fists and braced my body praying that it would pass by and zoom off into the distance. I relaxed slightly as it quickly moved away until suddenly turned at the bottom of the hedge. In a moment of unbelievably extreme panic its head lights illuminated my tent and its engine roared as it accelerated up the hill. I realise straightaway that it was still accelerating a great speed is directly towards my heavily camouflaged tent. I reached for my boots but in the split second it to take me to even raise my hand the roaring had got louder and closer, and raced incredibly close to my tent and off into the fields behind me. I scrabbles to get on my boots as I heard it move off. Had it not seen me? My question was quickly answered when I heard it looping and turning round to accelerate back towards me. I had only managed to slip into one boots when I heard it slowed to a proud as it pulled up next to my tent. I was panicked. In such a rush to get out and face my creditor. To explain that I didn't mean any harm and would happily pack up and move on if requested. Before I could unzip the porch of my tent, the engine roared its most almighty roar yet, like a warning cry from a ferocious predator of the night, and sped at what must have been at least 40 mph to the bottom of the field. I finally scrabbled out of the tents just in time to see it daemonic red brake lights flash as it turned around the hedge and lead off into the distance. Silence fell. What's happened over the next 10 minutes is unclear, my memory goes blank here. Having grown up watching Crimewatch and various other survival programs, I knew that I needed to work out the time of the incident. By looking at the time of the last message I sent to my friend I managed to estimate the time of the incident as around 7:25 PM. For the next hour I still alone, still in the field waiting from my adversary to return. I stood still, unable to move. My sweaty hand clutching my pocket knife deep in my trousers. My feet in agony inside my wet boots amongst the frosty grass. My thoughts were locked on my tormentor. Was it he? She? Them? What did they want? It couldn't be the farmer himself, he surely would have stopped to challenge me. It was someone else. And unknown. One of the unwritten rules of wild camping is, a bit like the code for borrowers in Mary Norton's classic book: don't get seen! I had been seen. Who was this person who would see me? Who was this single and elusive character who knew my exact position on the planet? What worried me more was what they were going to do with that information. Perhaps they had gone to get the farmer. Maybe the farmer's friend who he allowed to drive around his field that night. But no, I considered the way that they had driven so recklessly around the field, the way that after slowing next to me they had sped off so suddenly when I had started to unzip my tent, almost as if they were running from me. Like they too were not supposed to be there. A boy racer perhaps? Who was now driving off into the distance just as worried about the fact that they too had been seen? I wanted to believe this, tried desperately to believe it. But still I waited ready to stand trial, ready to answer to my judge. I looked at the time, 832, I've been stood there alone in the field for over an hour now. I had them approaching once again. My heart began to beat harder and faster than I had ever felt before. Like it was so desperate to escape from this place that it was prepared to rip through my rib cage and off into the night. The sound moved away. I was mistaken. In my need for comfort I imagined my good friends Nathanial. I could see him standing next to me, the same fear in his eyes. We hugged. I whispered to him and aloud in the fields, "what shall we do?". Why in my moment of terror my body had chosen Nathanial I am not sure. In hindsight I know that I have long admired his bravery in difficult situations. The clock of the last churchtower about 200 yards away rang nine times. I knew that the more time the past, the less likely it was my captor would return. I decided it was now safe enough, so with hand still shaking, I climbed back into my tent. The next four hours were long and dark. For the 90 minutes or so after my attack, adrenaline had kept me warm. But now, lying down in my tent, the cold Cornish night found me. I didn't dare take off my clothes, through fear that I might once more be summoned into the night by that predators roar. I packed my bag as best I could, ready to make a quick dash into the nearby woods if I needed to. It was there alone, that the real torture began. The slightest sound in the distance cause my body to jolt up right, and listen intently until it fizzled out. My sense of distance in hearing became distorted as even the faintest noise could be a threat. I started to wonder if it had really happened. If I had made up this mysterious happening. I knew my physical state of terror was too real for this to be true. It was during this agonising four hours before I finally fell asleep that I was able to console myself with the idea of this piece of writing. I imagined myself sat in the lovely harbour cafe in Mousehole that I'd been to hours earlier, with a mug of the luscious hot chocolate, a view of the sunlit harbour in front of which I could recant my terrifying tale. Indeed many of the phrases written here above were worked over and through countless times in my mind is during my sleepless night. And now here I am, safe in the utopian With its own so interested in my travels. And a view of the idyllic Mousehole let by the sun to soothe my mind after as most haunted of nights. My hope is that my adversary was merely a young boy showing off to an attractive young girl by zooming through the fields beneath a romantic full moon as I had done many times years ago. Unaware of the terror he would cause me. And I hope for my sake, she was impressed!
Tom Vinall
COME SEE ME PERFORM IN PENZANCE THIS SATURDAY!!
So CAZ are calling it an "Artist's Talk", so to counter this I am calling it a performance because it is most likely to be something inbetween the two. Whatever it is I am super excited about it and would love to see as many people there as possible!
AUTONOMOUS ZONE
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March 2006 - Penberth
Age 13 years and 1 month old I went to the large Christian festival called Spring Harvest. I left with an amazing appreication for nature and the beauty of the planet on which we live, along with a new found belief in a God. This photo of a cross burning out of the sun over Penberth seems quite fitting.
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