All posts by Lucid Gypsy

Gilly Mbachu Goldsworthy is a mum to two kids that are supposed to be grown up and mma to a six year old granddaughter, a two year old grandson, a 16 month granddaughter and another is coming! None of that means that I am grown up though. I love writing – travel and quite edgy fiction – and being an OU student for a degree which remains to be seen. What I do best though is counselling; I’ve been privileged to work with many people through big changes.

The Nereids Zodiac Sign

My brand new zodiac sign would be Nereids, sea goddesses ruled by the tides and moon, therefore a mix of air and water elements. There is to be a full moon around my birthday, and I share the sign with others born three days either side of June 2nd. Nereids like myself have been known to howl at the moon and gather like minded daughters and sisters, crones and virgins to join in the lunar celebrations at the seashore, and the liminal space of the estuary. Nereids are volatile spirits, benign, warm and generous with a bountiful love of human, animal and faerie folk. Harm an innocent though and we will fight tooth, feather and scales to defend the broken ones, often suffering ourselves as a result. Beware triggering our rage.

Physically we are fleet as shoals of little silver fish, swirling in the shallows , where the sunlight shimmers. Because of our love of water and air, we can be prone to weakness of our feet, and they need much attention to keep them healthy. Both our hands and eyes are very expressive and full of emotion.

At times we become too grounded for our nature and that is when we become greedy, often devouring great quantities of things that are unsuitable and over processed. This slows us down, makes us sluggish and confuses our airways, causing asthma like symptoms . We can be opinionated, overbearing, and frequently become grumpy old women, with a flip side that never grows up.

Could you possibly be a Nereid? If this sounds like you, there is a fair chance that someone got your birthdate wrong. Maybe you could describe your own custom zodiac sign?

 

I created this post in response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Custom Zodiac

What Kind of Chocolate are You?

You’ve all seen those crazy Facebook quizzes, which Disney princess are you, which Greek goddess are you? what flavour smoothie are you? Well today I’m sharing what kind of chocolate I am.  Of course I’m never the same, but on Mondays I’m this kind of chocolate,

monday

that’s scary, grumpy and menacing.

Thankfully on Friday, that’s tomorrow I’m more like this,

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Dark, mysterious and irresistible :-)
Tell me what kind of chocolate are you?

Sleep, no, dreams, yes

Sleep? Very funny. I have a bad case of sleep envy. Is it only the young that can lie down and fall asleep at the lowering of an eyelash? I certainly can’t remember lying awake for hours in my youth can you? I can’t remember turning from my right side to my back to my left side and repeating the whole cycle for hours either. I can’t remember ‘killing’ pillows and having to buy new ones every few months, because the weight and swivel of my head leaves an unfillable crater in them, whether they cost £3 in the bargain shops or £30 in John Lewis.

Dreams were rare in my childhood. There was a nightmare that had a couple of times, self-inflicted I believe, and about rats. I used to play near the panny you see, a tunnel built to channel the North Brook under the road, for about a mile near where I lived. It was a sort of dare game, the place was mucky, wet as brooks are and as dark as tunnels under the road are bound to be. There were also eels in the water, so the choice was wading through it with them swimming over your toes, or trying to walk on the narrow edge where inevitably rats were scurrying over your feet. I’ve been rat phobic ever since and these images often come to me when I’m on the sleep threshold.

When I eventually get to sleep these days, my dreams are more sophisticated. I had a spell where I had very lucid dreams, like the one about the mansion. I’d be strolling through an endless set of rooms, each more grand, exciting and vibrant than the last. Very ornate, elegant and full of important paintings, sculpture and literature and I was always on the top floor of the mansion. So, as I understand it, dreams about the top floors of buildings are about the psyche, the fascinating stuff of our minds, what’s in our head space. I’ve often wondered what this dream says about me.

Another very powerful dream that’s stayed with me, was in a very definite place, at the top of the hill on the Moretonhampstead road, after you drive over the first cattle grid on Dartmoor. A deep valley is on the right and in my dream it was on fire. I want to get my family to safety in our tiny 2CV, but I know it’s futile because it’s more than just a fire. I hold my children in my arms and wait the end of the world.

My eyes are sleepy now. I might take my book to bed, but it’s rather good and will keep me awake. I need a boring one instead. I hope that you sleep well and wake refreshed.

I’ve written this in response to the Daily Post today, by Michelle W.

Tantalising Glimpses of Guell

Our journey on the Bus Turistic continued past Sagrada Familia  and through the trendy Gracia area. Our destination for the morning was perhaps the furthest point on the blue route, Parc Guell.  We jumped off the bus, following a few others and turned a corner into full sun. Parc Guell is in the the Zona Monumental and a monumental hill faced us! Pretty soon our water bottles and our tummy’s were empty so we sought out a café for an early lunch. Surprisingly, considering the vicinity, the first one we came across was cheap, a little local place where we had pizza, churros and coffee for just a few euros. Refreshed, we tackle the rest of the hill, resisting the tacky tourist shops along the way.

Eventually we turned the corner and had our first view of Parc Guell.

gu1
We were hooked right away, and headed towards the entrance.
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This wasn’t it, originally this was built as the porter’s lodge and entrance, but for now it’s one of the exits.
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The selfie sticks available in all those tourist shops were being put to good use. So we strolled a few metres more, up the path to the ticket office,

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where we were told that we wouldn’t be able to go in for another four hours. We bought our tickets to enter between 5.30 and 6pm, for seven euros each,
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and feeling hot and irritable, but glad we would be able to go later, walked all the way back down that monumental hill.

So, we’d had a little peep at what was to come and had to entertain ourselves on the blue bus for a while.

What could we do?

Half Hours in the Tiny World

What does “enveloped” mean to you? It could be your post-bath toddler wrapped burrito-style in a huge fuzzy towel. How about the ever-present fog that meanders through your city? Is it the well-loved hammock you lie in devouring novels as if they were candy? Maybe it’s your favorite fluffy comforter, edges worn from love and use?

Krista asks this question for this weeks photo challenge and as often happens when I’m stuck, I let my imagination run away with me.  When I need to escape or when I’m tired I let myself be enveloped in a book. It could be fiction – a novel perhaps, my ‘comfort book’ is Miss Austen’s Emma, a short story, or perhaps a poetry anthology. The shelves in my house are stacked with books on a wide variety of subjects and include some antiquarian books. Here is one of them.

book
It’s packed with treasure from the natural world, such as the metamorphosis of gnats, delicately sketched.

gnats

The life of a spider,

bees and wildflowers

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This book has a dedication inside that reads:-

Third prize for
General Improvement,
merited by
Rose Weller
Cambridge House July 1879

That’s a long time to be enveloping people in its magic!