Held Design

Hel and Mon’s Naked Adventure…

We set off from different locations, Monica headed down from Kilkenny while I cut across from Cork. We talked about it the night before and decided against going naked all day, it could cause havoc on the motorways, not to mention trying to get a coffee afterwards.

We met in Youghal at a wrong turn, I took the wrong turn, Monica of course was on track, so I followed her silver car to the Quality Hotel. A little late for registration we made straight for reception. All eyes were downcast as we passed, everyone seemed a little embarrassed.

“But we still have our clothes on?” I questioned my younger sister, who for years has patiently played my elder.

“It’s okay Helena, they’re probably doing the dip too,”

“God if it’s like this now, what’s it going to be like on the beach,”

“Just don’t look down,” my sister warned as if we were about to climb Everest.

Registration went smoothly and we were sent to our nudie location. There the spirits were livelier, a buzz had descended on the place and some confident dippers were already in the nip. We averted our eyes and made chit chit with lots of other nervy swimmers. The main discussion point was how close the men’s dipping location appeared to be to ours, one of our new friends extremely concerned about this, questioned obsessively until we got an answer.

“See those pink balloons way down there,” we turned our heads, without my glasses I hadn’t a notion, “and those blue ones way down there,” our heads turned the opposite direction, “the pinks are where the women go in and the blue are for the men, you’ll be specks!”

There was a mass release of pent up air, the fellas were ages away. Even if their bits were massive, we’d never see them!

Next we headed for the tent, here we got our first taste. No one was shy and naked women sauntered this way and that, I had to get changed beside a women who insisted on poking her hairy bare bottom  into my face. Everyone made an effort, body paint, wigs, feather boas, ivy scarves, we felt a little under dressed and vowed should we do it again we’d make more of an effort.

On the beach the tension rose, old and young giggled like school children and I shifted hastily from foot to foot, more nervous than the start of any race. Mon took out her camera and tried to sneak a few pictures. Close to eight the countdown began, everyone trotted on the spot, “ten, nine, eight, seven…” at three we shed our dressing gowns and got caught in the moment. All thirty to forty of us screamed and ran head long into the freezing waters. Everything on everyone wobbled and it felt good, real. The laughter was infectious.

We were in it together, friends supporting their friends, sisters supporting their mother, families supporting their father, wrapped in the energy and it was amazing. One women who’s bottom read “I kicked Cancers ass!” hugged her friend “we’ve done a lot of crazy things but this is definitely the craziest,” she screamed. A round of ole, ole, ole, ole broke out and we became a pack of naked soccor supporters.

As we walked back onto the beach, all self consciousness washed away by the sea, it didn’t matter anymore that we were naked, it seemed silly to put back on our clothes, this thought lasted until I reached my gown.

The moment though amazing had felt too short and as women shed their clothes once more and rushed for the waters, I looked at Monica.

“Do it again?” she nodded and we headed back in with the others. This time we stayed for a while to keep the feeling.

After the dip, men and women met for tea and food on the beach, there was a quiet calm, and we watched the waters play with the shoreline on this sunny Sunday morning. Then we wrote a message for the rag tree, our reason for this our mother, bid our new friends goodbye til next year and headed for Youghal.

Over coffee we couldn’t quite grasp what we’d done, what we felt or what it meant, but we were happy, it was sunny and life was good. Today as I write this is the last day of my mothers treatment, seems fitting!

Thanks a million to everyone for the support, we hope you’ll all come back with us next year, at the risk of sounding like a hippy, it was liberating!! Fundraising stays open for another month so if you feel like sending a few bob our way just click here

It’s an Instagram…

Anyone who has been around me the last few days will be aware of my Instagram obsession…I have never been one for taking pictures and only hold memories from most of the places I’ve been but last week in a stroke of pure genius I downloaded the Instagram app and I am hooked. Genuinely…

I’m sure I will bore anyone who follows this blog or the Held design twitter account with lots of instant images over the weeks, months and years to come…it’s a beautiful partnership…but it’s okay you can hide my account and I’ll never know!

Above are some of my recent memories!

(Just noticed the pictures make an “F” not on purpose but if anyone wants to read anything profound or interesting into that, please do, maybe it’s subconscious or a computer glitch, subconscious sounds better though!)

My New Free Runners…

So I designed my own runners on the Nike Custom Made site…it was great spent hours experimenting and they arrived this morning. Was sick of wearing reflective gear now I’ll definitely be seen in the dark! I’ve had Nike Frees for the past year and found them brilliant, had loads of aches and pains before I got them, then had none, and now for the last four weeks running on my old runners aches and pains are back again. Better start running a lot better, there’ll be no hiding in these. The runners talk too, just look at their tongues!

The Fall of The Politically Incorrect…(This Could Get Me In Trouble!)

So there was this competition, catch our attention it said…so I got thinking, actually I hardly ever stop thinking which can hinder the sleep, but I got thinking a little deeper. I said to myself…Helena, what’s annoying you, have you an opinion, something to say!?? Ah ha I thought…political correctness is gone too far, I’m gonna make a stand, have a voice, get a soap box, smack a child (only messin, I don’t have a child!)

So I designed this little advert, it didn’t come anywhere, I wonder why? It’s not intended to offend anyone, it’s intended to offend everyone (hence offending no one, fingers crossed!!)

Look Who’s Living on a Wall in Cork…

So I was wandering around Blackrock in Cork on the weekend and I have to say if I’d known I was about to bump into Royalty I would have worn something a little more appropriate. At first I thought I was going mad, I heard trumpets you see. The tiny tingle of little trumpets. A glint of gold caught my eye, so I looked up. On the wall above my head was a man on a horse.

“Welcome” he said.

I froze.

“We’ve been expecting you. Everything is in place, we hope you’ll find it all to your satisfaction.”

Suddenly loud scrapping, like nails on a blackboard, attacked my ears. A wooden chair moved across the footpath towards me. It appeared to have a mind of it’s own until I looked down. About one hundred mini men tugged ropes attached to the wooden legs. The chair was placed in position by the wall a little ahead.

“Please mount it,” the man on the horse shouted.

“I’m too big, I’d break his back,” I stammered.

“I mean the chair good Sir, not my horse!”

“Oh,” I blushed.

I walked ahead and climbed on board. The man galloped his horse along the wall until we met eye to eye.

“Welcome to the Castle good Sir,” he said gesturing to the right.

I followed his arm and gasped. The smallest castle I’d ever seen was perched on top of the wall.

“We’ve put in a new railing, it runs the length of the Castle grounds,” said the man as he dismounted and walked to a tiny stainless steal railing. “We’ve also put fire safety windows upstairs in the Castle and have run numerous tests. Here,” he said waving a miniscule piece of paper at me.

I took it up and strained to read the text.

“It should all be there,” he said.

“Um looks good,” I lied handing it back.

“So,” he said, “Do you need longer to inspect?”

“Am…well it all looks great to me,” I smiled still baffled.

“Do we pass?”

“Em…Yes, in my book anyway!” I smiled.

“Oh what a relief,” sighed the little man, “The Queen will be delighted. Planning permissions been the bane of our life. Please pass on our sincere thanks to the council. Would you like a cup of tea before you leave. I’m sure you’ve lots of places to inspect?”

“Em…no I’m fine thanks,” I replied confused.

The man got back on his horse and we looked at each other for a moment.

“So I better go tell her highness,” he said breaking the silence.

“Oh right yes…I’ll be off then,” I added.

“Great! Well it was lovely to meet you,” he shouted as I dismounted my chair.

I watched him gallop away, then the small army trudged off with the chair and I was left alone by the wall. I snuck out my camera and took a picture of the palace not wanting to forget this bazaar occasion.

It’s a true story, believe it or not!

Brazilian Dreaming…

Wish I could say…just saw this last night as I hung around with the young and the beautiful in Brazil, after spending the day on the beach drinking pina colada’s (don’t think I’ve ever had one but hey it’s pretend).

The truth is, I virtually visited this futuristic nightclub while in my pyjamas, looking out the window at a less than thrilling Cork morning. I think they’ve stolen the sun!

The nightclub looks beautiful, I love the design and if you visit the website roxybh.com you’ll see they’ve carried the branding right through, rollover the logo up top or zone out to the 80’s background. A good example of a branding running right through a business!

The place is designed by Fred Mafra, you can check out his site fredmafra.com

The Things you find on Street Corners…

Some of the best art can be found hanging around street corners…does that sound right? We walk past them everyday and barely notice, maybe because somebody else, a critic or some artsy magazine, hasn’t told us their good…or maybe I;m being a little cynical (it’s the weather, it can be blamed for all sorts of things!) Anyway above are two examples, one from Dublin, the other from Cork.

Legs Eleven…Cheeky!

So I had a productive weekend, did a bit of writing, a bit of talking, a bit of drinking, a bit of sleeping and a bit of Bingo (um does that quantifier go with that noun…surely not, says a Majorcan born English learner…)

Anyway back from my wander of words…yes I played a little bingo. A friend thought it would be a great idea, so we went to her local wearing purple rinse wigs and trench coats. The looks we got on arrival were a little sideways and so after a quick sprint to the loo, we flushed the purple rinse down the toilet and rejoined the room of money hungry saturday nighters. It was great craic, lots of legs elevens, all the threes, something about ducks and other ramblings from the man in tight leather pants who held the dodgy microphone. Oh and the best part, I won €20!

So I think it’s my new hobby, Bingo on a Saturday night, a recession buster! If you’re a little bored have a flutter (or is that only for horses?), this Bingo site is a good one to boost the three o’clock slump.

Cork eh…

So I’m down in Cork since September, not every second since September but you know what I mean. So at first I thought…Cork eh (suspicious tone to my thinking)…then it was like Cork eh (coming around type tone) and now it’s Cork eh! (enthusiastic, happy, isn’t lovely type tone).

Here’s a picture or three to prove it… isn’t it lovely eh?? Pictures were taken by me yesterday…well not yesterday, they were taken a few weeks ago but I have a bad memory for things I should do like blog and I’m sure nobody in Cork reads this and therefore no one can argue that the sky wasn’t that colour last night…so yes they were taken yesterday!

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