Surviving Christmas

Thank you to everyone for the kind Andy-come-home wishes! He did return that night, to much rejoicing but had to work right up until the weekend. He had a miserly two days off at Christmas, then returned to the fray, because retail workers get little respite at this time of year. So we're glad it's all over and he won't be so tired. We are both thankful to see the back of 2010 which was quite tough in parts. Never festive at the best of times, I wasn't going to put decorations up, but weakened last thing on Christmas Eve and strung a line of cherry fairy lights up, hung with a few non-glass things. On Christmas Day we allowed ourselves to enjoy the snow and had a marvellous walk round the fields. This is the front of our cottage, a basic one-up-one-down matchbox, glittering with icicles.

Poor Andy was so tired that he forgot to buy his Christmas beer - but luckily his brother had made an inspired choice of present with a gift box of real ale. I admit to being a teeny bit jealous.

But my beer envy was short lived, because the same Andy's brother had managed to find me a whole box of vintage toymaking books and magazines! Some real gems in here and I've had a happy time browsing them.

Pumpkin had brown paper.

My cheese penny pot was a bit disappointing this year and I was going to forgo the Cerney Cheese we love. But thanks to the generosity of kind Janet, I arrived at the village deli to find a gift order of one Cerney Pyramid and a gammon ham, which I prepared with honey and mustard - this is a rare treat and we have been thanking her through mouthfuls of ham sandwiches.

Other blog friends had surprised me with gifts too - I admit to being hopeless at Christmas; if it were a school subject I would get a 'D' and 'could do better!' So I am humbled and a bit awed that anyone could find enough time to take the trouble to send me nice things like this beautiful lavender heart and needle book from Anne of 'Frayed at the Edge'.

Sooz, of 'Confessions of a Laundry Fairy' sent me this, by one of my favourite modern illustrators, Simon Bartram, who also happens to work for 'my' publishers, Templar as well, and who I briefly met a few years ago.

My dear *old* (in the nicest sense of the word) friend Tara, of 'Silver Apples' sent me one of her delightful treasuries of nice things -

And my even *older* friend (since college days, which was scarily almost two decades ago) Natasha, Queen of Cakes, sent us these little lovelies which I am not sure if we can bear to eat;

One mystery present was a copy of 'Daring Dos, by Mary Trasko, a book which has been lingering on my Amazon wishlist for a few years - full of amazing (and frankly bonkers) historical wigs, hair styles and fascinating info about how they were contructed and the history of bizarre hair fashion. I can see all kinds of new ideas sprouting from this kind of thing;

It came without a gift card, so I have no idea who was kind enough to buy this for me - but if they are reading this, then thank you ever so much, I have wanted this for a long time.

Now that my arm is just at the stiff and awkward stage, I decided to launch the New Year with a little pootle on Marjorie. It was a bit cold and we were both out of puff by the time we trundled home, but yet again I had forgotten how happy cycling makes me feel and how much I love January and the promise of an unwritten twelve months ahead.

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.

Going Polar

Have an inevitable snow picture.




Have another one. After Andy's nine day 'at home' holiday, we were cut off by snow. Joy. The gritters didn't come down our winding country lanes, leaving them iced over. So we were cut off, and with a 45 mile commute to work on a motorbike, he was 'at home' again, for most of the week. I'd rather he was safely at home climbing the walls then in a cold ditch with a broken neck, in spite of the general trend to tut-tut at people who didn't or couldn't get to work. Bikes and snow don't go. With the whole village confined, and delivery lorry unable to get through, our one little Co-op soon ran out of supplies. It was stripped. We managed to get one little loaf (loaves being rationed to one per customer) - the last one in the shop. And a carton of goat's milk Longlife milk. Thankfully we already had some normal UHT and the dreaded stuff remains in its box, now we are getting back to normal and have fresh. Lines must be drawn, and Longlife goat's milk is where I draw mine.




Thankfully we had plenty of wood and more than enough food. We and the cats hunkered down to sit it out. Naturally, the cats hogged the sofa. Before he went completely loopy with cabin fever, he did struggle in for the weekend rota, although because of the treacherous ice, his late Saturday night shift and early Sunday start, he had to stay overnight at the nearby, ghastly (and this one is ghastly) Travel Lodge. So I was home alone with the cats. As usual, I had plenty of things to do, not least of which was designing a prototype polar bear. A great excuse to watch my Arctic DVD and try to grasp the essentials of polar-bearness.




I was also dying to use one of the little glass bear noses I bought last year - only 8mm across at the widest point - it's the tiny black thing I've got pinned to my felting sponge up there, with my two lead bears saying hello to the white woolly blob that was the start of Petra. I wanted a really simply shape, and looked at lots of Inuit carvings - I figured they were probably the experts, and most toy bears I found were really just white teddy bears. Every bear type has distinguishing characteristics, and the challenge of the Polar is that it is deceptively easy looking. As it was, there was much adding and chopping before I finally got what I was looking for.




With a thaw setting in, at last we were able to get over to the woods, where we found evidence of Badger tramping solidly along a path. Badgers have five 'fingers' in a straight-ish row, as opposed to a dog's four pads. They walk along putting their back foot as near as possible to their front foot, so old Brock's trail looked like a two legged race.




Driven by hunger, the little Muntjac deer were down in the bluebell woods, the most walked in part of the reserve. They almost didn't care how near we were, but eventually they sloped off into the beech grove ahead.




To my unkind amusement, Andy had a slapstick moment, when he leaned on a rotten gate post which promptly collapsed under him. Unfortunately there was a large, slushy, muddy puddle just where he landed and I would be derelict in my duty if I did not share this moment with the world.




Now conditions are somewhat better and routines are almost restored; though our roads are still like ice rinks and I count the hours until Andy is safely home. Roll on Spring.

Mouse in the house!

And the weather this week has been...

But with intervals of...

And freezing at night. Which may explain the presence of this little chap, found by Samson and Andy, behind the sofa last night. Andy felt the need to check for more...I had a vision of an exasperated little mouse-wife and a gaggle of eight children, whining and runny nosed, huddled beneath the sofa cover...

" I don't know 'Enry, you never get it right, I told you it were too good to be true! !"

"But Muvver, 'ow was I to know there were four cats 'ere?"

"I don't know why I married you, I really don't...take your tail out of yer nose, our Albert!"

But in the event, it was just poor 'Enry, and he was released into the shed, there to take his pick of the woodpile, my old piano or - more likely - the motorbike, where he could chew wires to his little heart's content.

I now have my first actual in-my-hands printed piece, the fairy baking poster painted at Christmas for the primary teachers resource magazine 5-7. It's a teaching aid for poetry and on the back are exercises to develop pupils language skills. They write a poem about it and answer suggested questions, such as 'what colour cake is being made, what do you think it tastes like?' And talking about the size of the fairies, to introduce the idea of similes, 'the fairy was as small as a flower'. (BTW, I had nothing to do with this part of the project, I just painted the picture). It's odd to think of all those little minds concentrating on my imaginings and coming up with their own takes on it.

This month is Big Decision time - again. Do we stay here or take the plunge and do as we have been planning to do for years - move to Devon. We have to decide soon, as the rent contract is up for renewal. If we stay here another year, it's just treading water. But moving is expensive and time consuming. A lot depends on whether Andy can get a job within his company, whether I get any more decent paying work, or get a good agent. We are coming round to the idea of 'just doing it'.
If only the marbles fall in the right places, and not skittering off the game board...