His Last Walk

 His Last Walk

Dear friends  - on January night, 2013 my beloved life partner and soul mate of 21 years, Andy, left this earth forever. I had been keeping a close watch on him at the cottage for six days. He had gone into a downward spiral of stress and depression which eventually tipped him over the edge. On the day he was signed off sick from work, he began saying strange things and I looked into his eyes: it was not my Andy any more. It was another person, a tortured soul who was convinced that because he could not do his job properly, that he would be sacked and we would lose the cottage, all within two weeks. Now of course, this sounds irrational, but then, he was suffering from paranoid delusions, tortured scenarios of our imagined eviction and thought that the world was conspiring against him. He believed - this great hearted man, who pushed himself beyond endurance - that he was a failure and it tore my heart in two to hear him say this. He was anything but.

Many years ago, when we were at the seaside, he said that one day he would walk into the sea and just keep walking. And more recently, when we were walking through the woods in the snow, he said that if he had to 'go', he would like to sit under a tree in the snow and let hypothermia take him. Because (he said) that way, you just get an illusion of being warm and sleepy, whereas in fact, you are freezing to death. It is an easier way to go.

It was a nightmarish six days of trying to look after my darling, as he tormented himself and he had been unhappy for some time before. The last year, with so many changes - for a man who hated change - was too much for him. It had not been a happy year for him; it seemed to me that every week brought a new thing to bring him down and add to his load. And he did not deserve that.

On the night he left me forever, it was a freezing, snowy Shropshire night. I had seen him go into the kitchen minutes before and when I went to ask if he wanted to eat, I saw the back doors wide open and I knew what he intended to do. I ran into the garden, in the dark, screaming across the countryside that I loved him, and to come back to me. But there was no answer except the thin wind  blowing across the snow.

He walked out across the back fields, in nothing but day clothes and without boots. His disappearance was a matter of minutes and it was not until  daylight the next morning that we found his footprints on a side wall, out of obvious sight. The Shropshire police put out a full team that night, and a new team in the morning. There were dogs, Search and Rescue and the Mountain Rescue team. They did everything they could to find my sweetheart, but I knew from the start that he had gone to end his tortured thoughts.
'I just can't do this any more' was a phrase he repeated time and time again.

He was found a couple of miles away, the next day, in a small river two miles from here. He had walked across country - by which time he must have been completely frozen - and I think (I hope) that in the end it was a gentle way to go. A falling asleep in icy running water, surrounded by the countryside he loved. My beautiful Nature Boy, with nature at the very end, surrounded by trees. Going in both the ways he had mentioned before. 

I am slowly picking my life up and trying to get back to work. Because ironically, now that he is gone, the future of our cottage may very well be in jeopardy and I must work as hard as I can to earn a proper living. But oh, my friends - it is as if part of me has been ripped out. I can take some small comfort knowing that shortly before he vanished, I put my arms around him and kissed the top of his head. I told him I loved him, and he told me that he loved me. The one thing he could still say with clarity. 

 

Dear Lord, the suffering is unbearable at times but I am blessed with such wonderful friends here and around the world and they are looking after me here and afar. Without that, I fear what I would do. But the real Andy, who promised me he would never 'do anything stupid' - because he knew he was all I really had - would not want that. So I must go on, for him, for my friends and bear this agonising grief as best I can. For Andy. Forever.  

 

Andy Macauley April 23 1971 - January 21 2013

New studio snaps

'Mollie Makes' calendar with the clean, fresh sheet of January beckoning.

One of Jack kangaroos, before he was boxed off and sent to America.

Some of our peeled hallway wall seen beyond the door.

 Much nicer - treasure.

Toy making books and badger skull.

 Lovely  1920's cocktail cabinet, perfect for displaying the 'Puddletown Tales' toys.

Everything piled up because there is never, ever, enough storage space.

Favourite cards and ephemera.

I am having a work overdrive, so watch this space for more shop updates, new designs and news of my March workshop in the forest of Dean (or click here for more details).

Kangaroos & birdy things

Just before we moved (again) last year I created my most complicated pattern so far - 'Jack', a kangaroo for the Australian magazine 'Felt'. I had to make an initial one to work out the basic pattern and then a second one in order to do the demo photographs. Haven't had anyone contact me yet to tell me they've made one though! You can buy the magazine as a back issue here, if you want to try making your own.

Jack one *SOLD*

Jack two *SOLD*

 Another couple of little things left over from last year, a little button wheel goose -(*sold*)

- and a vintage style owl clip. Despite their small size, each one took around four hours to make. So for the first time in ages, I've been able to update my shop with needle felt, not art. 

 

A little folk

We are delighted to discover that our favourite Shropshire pub, the Bottle and Glass at Picklescott has reopened under new management and has kept on the 48 year old tradition of a Christmas singing session. Many people choose to walk to this event, (which is in a tiny village miles from anywhere) so there were lots of red faces and waterproofs.

It was a wonderful afternoon, full of song and laughter, not to mention beer - for the non-drivers of course. With a log fire, stone hearth and old beams, this is the increasingly rare English pub at it's finest - no pomp or ceremony, just a warm welcome and a well pulled pint.

 

Although everyone knew each other and we knew nobody, we didn't feel at all left out, certainly not after belting out all the verses to the folk version of 'the Holly and the Ivy'.

The oldest there was in hearty voice and gave us some fine accordion playing too. 

 

The last seven months of upheaval and moving to a strange county have been very lonely and I admit now that I have struggled with an aching homesickness for the Cotswolds. That lovely afternoon in good - if unknown - company and a few hours of singing gave me the happiest time I have had since moving here and I can almost believe that maybe next year I might feel as if I can settle here at last. 

So for anyone not lucky enough to have a fine old English pub nearby, here is the very nice folk version of Auld Lang  Syne. In the manner of all amateur home movies, there is the inevitable 'noises off' as a tanker driver intervenes because he can't get his tanker up the lane. So forgive the brief appearance of Andy's head as he goes to move the jeep. And as they say at the end, a Happy New Year to all. 

Gisela Graham circus

We aren't decorating this year, so I will inundate my blog with images of the toy circus decorations I designed for the Gisela Graham company a couple of years ago. I've not been to any shops, so would love to know if anyone in the UK has seen them - or even has bought some.

A peaceful Christmas to everyone from Bodge Cottage.