An old friend restored

The Ashmolean Museum, Oxford

In 1987, I hitchhiked to Oxford with my then boyfriend, a nineteen year old penniless, orphaned urchin, with no-one supporting me, determined - somehow - to become a *famous artist*. Does that sound dramatic? Well, that's how it was. Having left an unhappy foster home aged just 16, I had tried in vain to somehow earn my living through my artworks, with little training , absolutely no idea of how this was to be done, and having scant cultural background.

Suffering from what I now know was deep depression, the result of a chaotic childhood, traumatised by losing one parent after another, I was in a downward spiral, common to youngsters who are dumped by the care system and left to sink or swim. It was a hopeless situation, but at least I finally had the wit to realise that. So I was heading to Oxford for an interview to get onto an A level art course, at the more humble College of Further Education.

We were dropped off at the Abingdon Road roundabout and immediately a summer shower drenched us. We walked up to St Aldates. The sun came out. It was my first glimpse of Cotswold stone, and the wet buildings glowed golden yellow. Almost on cue, the bells of Oxford began to peal, as if welcoming me - it was a million miles away from the damp, slummy bedsit we had left behind us and I could actually sense the course of my life changing. I fell irretrievably in love with this ancient, beautiful city and it, in turn, civilised me.

I got my cherished place at the college and began the long, slow process of repairing my fractured life. I also began studying art history, and after so many years of neglect, my starved soul guzzled up knowledge and culture. I discovered the Ashmolean - like so many of our museums, it was and is, still free admittance to everyone. I nourished myself on paintings, largely ignoring the artifacts sections, which interest me now. With my battered Penguin copy of Vasari's Lives of the Artists in my pocket, I drew bronzes and copied artworks to my heart's content. I haunted the Renaissance room, which looks almost the same today as it did then.

I haven't been there for years - it is a fair trek to town if you do not own a car, so outings are rare. But this week we made the effort, to see the new gallery extension, opened last November. I was a little fearful of how they had treated the old girl, and raced up to the Renaissance room to say hello to my old friends.



After this comfort trip, we found our way almost by accident, to the new development, which cost £61 million...and worth every penny. It is stunning - it actually brought tears to my eyes. We wandered about gawping at the luxurious and clever use of space - a cross between a glass ants nest and the drawing 'Relativity' by Escher. The place was buzzing - a strange change from the previous fusty atmosphere, but a welcome one; it really felt like a 'people's museum'.



I fell in love all over again, and realised how much I had missed actually seeing real artworks of quality. There were dozens of enthusiastic, helpful staff buzzing about (a radical change from the grumpy jobsworths who used to sit foursquare in a corner, dozing off) and I enthused to one young lady about the new extension, explaining how I used to come and draw here, thinking I would be the next Michelangelo. She asked me if I did go on to become an artist, and I said yes, I'm a children's illustrator; not exactly what I had in mind then, but I did achieve some of my dreams.

There is a separate Ashmolean review, with many more pictures of the new gallery over on my Cotswold Peeps blog.

Seeds, swans and snow

I am in absolute denial that Spring is not coming. Last Sunday's walk felt like the turning of wintertide, and to celebrate, I planted our vegetable seeds.

Sticking to what we know grows best for us; three types of squash, including the Boston Marrow that Libby Buttons send me from America. Courgettes (which my US friends called zucchini) Cucumbers, Rosemary, a squadron of them, to nullify the pain of losing my old timers during the snow. Basil, to pretend that we may, one day, have summer. Tomatos and some long sweet peppers that might not come up as they are a little out of date. And broad beans for some early crops.

Then the weather played spiteful tricks and we have had snow again. Today we dutifully marched across muddy fields for some fresh air and exercise. We were not the only ones waddling down the footpath.

But we could not fly away like this -

Or land with such perfect synchronicity.

I have been completely wrapped up with the next stages of my two jobs. and trying to juggle them. One of them has already used up an entire A3 sketchbook. I enter the studio, start work, and with a few mental breaks for Twitter and Facebook (hey, I don't take lunch breaks!) - I am working for 8-9 hours at my desk at things I may not reveal - yet. This is not going to change until July, so I will have to find something else to talk about or I will turn into a silent bore.

Let me show you our first baby.

Thank you around the world

Fiddlesticks Hill

This was going to be a shameless plug post to punt a couple of my needle felt creations, but rather wonderfully they were snapped up almost as soon as they were listed in my Etsy shop, and since then I've been cracking on with breaking deadlines; non-stop studio work all day every day. This little landscape I named 'Fiddlesticks Hill' as it was so fiddly to make. The tree trunks were smaller than your wee finger nail and needle felting them was a *bit* of a challenge. However, I do like making alternative worlds and am very pleased that someone else is now enjoying it.

Instead, I will attempt to be more polite and say thank yous to kind bloggers who have tagged me or given me awards over the last few months. I simply don't have the time to respond to these as they come and I am taking the lazy way out, hoping they will forgive me. So in no particular order, thank yous and virtual cake to my blog friends from around the globe -

Dedicated Anglophile Elizabeth in California of Elizabeth Rhiannon is Visiting, (crumbs, that was back in July 2009, sorry Elizabeth!)

♥

Claire in the UK of Created and Felted (lovely felted pod bags)

♥

Coinsguylady, of the Hogscald Holler (rug hooking and banjo picking in the Ozark mountains, USA, a wonderful blog)

♥

Twiglet of Twiglet who makes all kinds of sweet craft treasures

♥

Rossichka from Bulgaria, of Out of the Shell, who is a professional puppeteer and has a wonderful imagination

♥

Kari in America who weaves exceptional art basketry, of Karibaskets

♥

And finally to Yarrow in the UK of Retreat (which was back in November, so more apologies)

If I have left anyone out, then you may have two slices of virtual cake and blame my faulty memory.

So while I am catching up with my P's and Q's, many chocolately thanks to my witty and funny friend Soozcat in the USA of Laundry Fairy, who (not for the first time) sent us a box rammed with Dove chocolates which Andy has become partial to - there were many and now there are few - and only because they have been hidden.

They have been moved to my nice new purse (emergency supplies) which, as you can see, was much needed; such kindness from Mlle Miracle of 'A Perfect Day', thank you for such a soft, lovely gift in my favourite red and not only that...

...but a new needle holder, which is already in use, I can never have enough needles (or holders).

Lastly but absolutely not leastly, big warm fluffy thank yous to my dear friend Janet in Virgina USA,,of The Empty Nest. Not content with making me a warm pumpkin scarf last year, she made me some mittens for my ever cold hands, in some of my favourite colours; not modelled by me as my fingernails are not fit to be seen. I really can't express how touched I am -

- especially as she has also adopted Oscar, who, alas, had to be sold. Groceries can't be bought with felt animals, unfortunately. I was so sad to put him up for sale, and so happy when I found he would be going to live with Janet. He spent Christmas with us, and has been mauled by a cat, so he's already had some adventures.

Farewell and safe journey Oscar - don't forget everything you've learned.

Haberdashery

Sometimes you spend an entire day trying to find a way to make a certain thing. You start with wire. Your first attempts end up on the floor and half a morning has gone by. You have an idea of how it might work, if only you could find that thing you've had for years, but don't know which box it is in.

Thank goodness you never throw anything useful away! Nylon lace is a nono, but interesting bits and bobs are uncovered; you find the rules to your game of Nine Men's Morris you thought you'd lost. A whole box of antique handmade lace is explored - but is sacred. Not for cutting.

Nothing useful in here today...

Not even in the glorious treasure chest that is the bottom layer of my workbasket.

Ah, here is a dusty basket with long abandoned temari balls...maybe there is something lurking in here...

Possibly a solution -

But no; after another experiment gone wrong, it's hard to feel that the day has not been wasted, except to find out what doesn't work!

The big clear up

Well, we survived that and the snow is gone. I've been out of the village for the first time since Dec 13th - a quick scenic spin on the motorbike. Time to survey the damage to my pots and round up the causalities. I seem to have lost most of my herbs, including some old friends like my twisted rosemary bush, which had such a pungent aroma. Andy's been clearing the ground for our new big poly tunnel, his Christmas present from his parents (thank you very much Mr and Mrs M) which will take up most of the left hand side of the plot.

My poor little studio has not been tidied for weeks and I could barely see the floor. I didn't really want to either, as the rug was almost grey with - stuff - in places. In my defence, I had confirmation of my other illustration job this month, and am now juggling it with the design work. Both of these have spring/early summer deadlines and both are full time jobs in themselves, so things have slipped somewhat. Look away now, if you have delicate nerves.

There were roughly forty jars of chutneys and jams shouldering each other for space - why have I got them in the studio? Because at some point last autumn I was dead set on labelling up each and every one, a thankless task which had to be abandoned for more important work-related things. Some had almost become part of the furniture...

Look, there's a herd of them sheltering beneath the wastepaper basket -

Eventually they were herded up and returned to their rightful home - the stores cupboard - labelled or not labelled. Which might be interesting at some future date.

Now, observe the difference;

What are the picture books? OK, here's a larger close up for the book lovers - click on for detail

There is even room for my legs under the table at last.

Snowed in

So, not being owners of even a car (let alone a four-wheel drive) we are snowed in. No gritter comes our way and the Co-op, our only shop, has been stripped. Quite often this is referred to a needless panic buying, but when the only shop for miles is almost empty and the roads to any town are impassable then things take on a different complexion. However, my habit of keeping an overstocked supplies cupboard (often laughingly referred to as my *nuclear supplies*) means that we can keep going comfortably for several days. Though we are being careful with logs and milk. And kibble.

The cats have taken personal umbrage at the disordering of their world and shuffle awkwardly through the garden like small, outraged snowploughs. Yesterday, just as the white heavens opened, I went for a solitary walk across the fields. Today Andy went a-wandering and came back with some splendid photos, such as this robin keeping within close shelter of a Dexter cow. Whether for warmth, or to take advantage of the earth being cleared (and grubs therein) - it was shadowing its large guardian, who seemed a little bemused by the attention.

Far beyond the village, the landscape lies buried and hushed.

And I might be biased, but I think nothing is as lovely as Cotswold stone in the snow.

We'll be fine - I have baked a loaf the size of a small planet.