Gwendolen lived in this Pembrokeshire cave: she was part woman, part crow, part rock. She decorated her glistening black body with kelp, and collected bird’s foot trefoil and celandine stars to place around her cave as night lights. This way, the deep darkness of her home was always studded by a warm yellow glow, even when storms raged outside it. Gwendolen lived in this cave for a great many years longer than any human can remember. She lived a not-quite-immortal life in silence, listening to the sounds of the waves crashing against the edges of the world. It is said that she loved how her eye would land upon infinity when she scanned the empty horizon of the sea. That her hands knew the rough dragon tooth edges of the world as if they were its maker. Gwendolen lived in this cave for just less than forever and she marked time
For the last few years, I have been noticing more and more pathologisation of the menopause. Either anecdotally, in the media, or from ‘professionals’, the message seems as clear as day: menopause is some awful process that women need various kinds of emotional and medical support with. About three years post-menopause, I was working at a university and they launched a menopause support network complete with an MS Teams community and events. I found this absolutely hilarious until I went to an event and came away equally baffled and depressed: why were all these women so desperate and unhappy? I have been post-menopausal for a decade now, so I feel that I know enough about it to tell you that it’s joyful! Not having to deal with periods is brilliant and liberating. I might get one mild hot flush a month (if that), but otherwise there are only two downsides. The
Trouble was born in 1742 and died in 1806 by an arrow from her very own bow. She wasn’t born Trouble, you understand, that was just what she made of it after all was said and done. I know the plaque says 2004-2018 – the engraver got it wrong. That’s because they didn’t have this story to reference as they made it. I shall go back to Black Down with a sticker to correct it one of these days. Anyway, Trouble was a maiden of lowly birth, neglected by her parents and hence thoroughly resourceful from age 5. She grew into the type of woman who, had she been born in contemporary times, could make quite a successful living delivering bushcraft courses. But no one paid for things like that back then, so she just used her skills to survive as a genuinely free and liberated eighteenth century lady-lad. Trouble lived