Should You Rent Or Buy A Paddleboard?
If you are trying paddleboarding this summer, you’ll need to either rent or buy a paddleboard. Read Red’s guide today to decide which option is best for you!
Written by Lydia Burdett /
Eliza McCarthy is a poet based in Cornwall, UK who is currently studying her degree in English Literature at Exeter University. We caught up with Eliza to learn more about her stunning poem, Late September Sky, written for the launch of our Mulberry Wine Pro Change Robe Evo...
"My poem, Late September Sky is centred around the time of year where the seasons change between summer and autumn. It sounds cliche, but I for one forget how good September’s arrival feels, then it rolls around every year, and I feel so grateful for the peace it brings. The days getting shorter, the mornings colder, the evenings a little darker. Where I live in Cornwall this is a favourite time of year for many people. The first of the autumn swells start to arrive in and the crowds disperse, it is always a welcome relief after the chaos of summer."
"I always listen to music when I write; when I was writing for Red during the launch for the Mulberry Wine Pro Change Robe Evo, I was listening to an Irish band called Lankum. I grew up listening to a lot of Irish music, so the band holds a lot of nostalgia for me. It’s incredible music with some haunting stories that accent a deep, droning backdrop. Lankum’s music brings images of changes in the seasons, it’s always the perfect thing to write to."
"This poem brings up so many memories of walking on Dartmoor as a child, jumping over gates or peering over hedges to see the farm animals on the other side. There would always be wool and it would always have a slightly oily or waxy texture, sometimes flecked with blue or red paint where the farmer has sprayed his sheep. It’s a very specific image but when I think of walking on Dartmoor, especially wearing warm snuggly jackets in the cold and wet of winter it is the first thing that comes to mind, so it’s a nostalgic one for me."
Eliza McCarthy is a poet based in Cornwall, UK who is currently studying her degree in English Literature at Exeter University. We caught up with Eliza to learn more about her stunning poem, Late September Sky, written for the launch of our Mulberry Wine Pro Change Robe Evo...
"My poem, Late September Sky is centred around the time of year where the seasons change between summer and autumn. It sounds cliche, but I for one forget how good September’s arrival feels, then it rolls around every year, and I feel so grateful for the peace it brings. The days getting shorter, the mornings colder, the evenings a little darker. Where I live in Cornwall this is a favourite time of year for many people. The first of the autumn swells start to arrive in and the crowds disperse, it is always a welcome relief after the chaos of summer."
"I always listen to music when I write; when I was writing for Red during the launch for the Mulberry Wine Pro Change Robe Evo, I was listening to an Irish band called Lankum. I grew up listening to a lot of Irish music, so the band holds a lot of nostalgia for me. It’s incredible music with some haunting stories that accent a deep, droning backdrop. Lankum’s music brings images of changes in the seasons, it’s always the perfect thing to write to."
"This poem brings up so many memories of walking on Dartmoor as a child, jumping over gates or peering over hedges to see the farm animals on the other side. There would always be wool and it would always have a slightly oily or waxy texture, sometimes flecked with blue or red paint where the farmer has sprayed his sheep. It’s a very specific image but when I think of walking on Dartmoor, especially wearing warm snuggly jackets in the cold and wet of winter it is the first thing that comes to mind, so it’s a nostalgic one for me."
Late afternoons yawn out of the windows
Rolled down as we let ashen air filter and fall through fingers as we drive home,
The other palm sitting in the familiar crease of a leather steering wheel
Watching a heavy horizon begin to soften and fold
The light threading through the needles of the trees
New paths are traced on rain spattered maps
The black mud of the moor becomes caked to the bottom of our shoes
There is waxy sheep wool caught in the slow barb of the wire that constitutes the field
It is a gentle lilt on the breeze
As we exchange smiles and stories of long hot summers as we slip into
The calm drenched cool of autumn
Where skeletons of the gorse and heather fall like paper
The secretive treasure of the smooth acorn is
Plucked and pocketed from the moist raw ground
We trace our fingers over the smooth shine as
They rest in the laps of our hands curled tightly into coats as
We continue to crunch the peat and the elephant grass under foot
As the evening hangs, softly as fog, to the gentle corners of the land
The flat bottom of glasses nod below the warm surface
It is roiling as another familiar body enters
And we laugh at the ludicrousy of being so warm
Snuck away from the soaking cold that hangs around our heads
Wrapped in steam
Later, our eyes are locked in a comforting satisfied gaze
As the fire burns in the warm darkness
Mouths are thick with sugar and clothes heavy with smoke
Metal flasks of soups and stews stowed in bags
Odd cups and jars clasped tight
And shared under a heavy sky
We look up at the cold sanctuary of our late September sky
It becomes smokey with cloud
our heads laid on the scratch of an old wool blanket
Grass caught in its frayed edges, stretched like a skin over the ground
Shoulders of friends are nudged together and hushed chatter is uttered under the milky dark
Sleepily watching the hours of our weekday week ebb away.
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