My first final outcome idea was a video diary. In my spare time, I enjoy filming and creating videos. Towards the end of this topic, I went away to Scotland so I had many clips available to use. From my first draft of the video, the advice I got from my teacher was that I needed to make it more personal and tell more of a story. Therefore I decided to write a poem to voiceover.

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The video is available to watch below or through this link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PP3vEoTQw4g

I have included a copy of the poem below:

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Trips away for benefit of grief’s victims

for ones, for us,

who loved and lost something extraordinary.

A trip to help us cope with the loss

of my, our, best friend.

Rest in peace, Brie.

 

Clouds interrupted an otherwise burning sun,

coating our pale skin in a glaze of warmth.

Crows, seagulls, petrols,

feasting on the remnants of holiday picnics

ham sandwiches and chunks of cheddar,

left for a lucky bird’s feast.

Bottles of beer, water, lemonade,

opened and sipped

a refreshing taste to cool your body

melting in the midday heat.

Inhaled scents of sea air and seaweed

carried by subtle breezes in the summer day

overtaking the rising smell of fish and chips

being fried up in sea front shops

in preparation for the evening’s onslaught of tourists.

Night time came late

as the sky cascaded into a variety of colours

as if it were a paint palette.

 

A clear blue morning called for breakfast of croissants and orange juice to be eaten outside as if staying inside was an insult to the loveliness of the day.

Once the day had cooled and the sun began to weaken,

we ventured out.

Boats bobbed up and down on the surface of the lake,

captured far below by a rusty anchor wedged between mossy dark seaweed where we could not see.

Our unknown beach

a mile or so’s walk along a thin pebbly track until it opened up to reveal miles and miles

of sand to both your left and right.

Our unknown beach

only a few had stumbled upon

on the evening of a scorching day.

Playful dogs chased each other through the growing tide.

Children played with multi-coloured buckets shaped as a crumbling castle when enough moist sand was crammed into the bottom.

Our unknown beach

beetles crawled deep down into the shingle

to sleep for the night.

Winds ceased and waves calmed as if to say ‘goodnight’.

 

Cheap Victorian sponges bought late the day before as a result of our quick getaway,

sliced in half and filled with a thick layer of jam and cream,

topped off with a fine sprinkling of icing sugar.

At Dad’s request, we followed a thin muddy trail

side by side with a splashing icy waterfall to the top of a hill,

and back down again.

Luscious trees filled the area with green.

Flowers plucked and captured as they swung with the wind,

colour as captivating as the butterflies

fluttering amongst them.

All to be heard was the rushing water

making its way over the rocks and under pebbles,

chasing gravity,

and the far away cry of birds

hopping between their playground of trees.

 

An early start, a drive through the mountains.

Eleven of us piled into a canoe

as green and long as the trees were tall.

Out of time paddling,

a struggle to follow any form of structure, rhythm, pattern -

reach, pull, reach, pull, reach, pull.

Travelling across the lake,

heart hammering at the dark and cold

lurking below me,

shared by creatures of all kinds.

Porpoise surfaced every few minutes,

their tiny fins spotted in delight.

Seals peered quizzically at us

as we glided past them,

occasionally slipping into the water themselves.

Onshore,

dogs greeted us with barks

as they dashed down onto the stony beach,

where we had docked for lunch.

Birds called from trees nearby,

sensing our presence on their usually isolated territory.

 

Being away in a place so isolated brought simplicity

I had not received in a long time

An island so empty, uninhabited,

not lonely, but peaceful,

created a holiday of love and remembrance,

beautiful as our dog had been.

 

Rest in peace, Brie.