25.4.21
Marmalade and a mouse
18.4.21
Beneath the apple tree
This weekend I have been working in the garden during the warm afternoons. It has become rather a jungle and I cannot remember the last time I sat out in it; Joe didn’t like sitting outside, or gardening (which should have told me something) and subsequently, I too became discouraged. I’m still adjusting to the complete freedom to do what I want, when I want, and that can be a difficult thing when you’ve spent most of your life living with one person or another.
14.4.21
The birds sing goodnight
It’s been a ‘wading through treacle’ kind of day for no good reason, and although I’ve managed to do some of the things that needed to be done, it still doesn’t feel like enough. So it’s time to say goodnight to today, and take comfort in a quiet evening. Things are growing and tonight the birds were singing gloriously, so do turn your volume up, if you can’t hear them.
Mr Pheasant briefly interrupted this pleasant melodiousness with his inelegant, croaky squawk, but he is part of home too. Time for bed as the sun sets, country style.
7.4.21
Gluing myself back together
Post Easter seems as good a time as any to resurrect my blog. It’s been a very difficult winter. I have a tendency to keep things to myself, trying to make the best of whatever problems I have and it’s hard to know what to write without sounding like a whiner (although I have unburdened myself a little in the safety of my Patreon page, where my lovely readers have seen far too many photos of my working in bed).
Apart from battling with the cold, I came close to burn out recently, as I struggled to put my book together and maintain a living with my shop. It just isn’t possible to do these two full time things at the same time; I’m too worn out from the things that life has thrown at me. Sometimes I feel like a pot that has been dropped many times and glued back together and I’m getting to the point where if I’m dropped again, I may fragment into so many little pieces that no amount of glue will put me back together again.
It’s a monumental relief to know that I can finish my book without any extra stress and then throw myself back into making and selling, hopefully making a go of things. I’ve finally started painting again. Ideas are sprouting up. I can tackle the garden, knowing that I am safe for the summer. Spring is here and remarkably, so am I, and I am so thankful for all of it.
6.2.21
Oxford Marmalade
When I was 19, I moved from a damp bedsit in Bournemouth and life on the dole, to Oxford, to start my art education. I instantly fell in love with the town and greedily drank it all in - sketching in the Ashmolean, discovering real ale, exploring the lovely shops in Little Clarendon Street that I couldn’t afford - yet. Because naturally, I dreamt that I would one day be a well known artist, maybe living in a nice house in the Jericho area, with a studio and well able to afford little luxuries. Back then, there was a dedicated shop on ‘The High’ for Frank Coopers jams and marmalades. I can still remember venturing up the steps and through the slim pilasters that framed the arched doorway, feeling very daring and buying my first jar of proper thick cut Oxford Marmalade, a real indulgence on my meagre income.
4.1.21
Sounds all around
25.11.20
The soup of life
Another early start for me at 7am and while I am shovelling down my first coffee of the day, I thought I’d take advantage of the dark morning to write to my friends and readers here. The last few weeks have been what seems like an insurmountable challenge to get my depleted Etsy shop updated and restocked - lots of things that I have made over the last couple of years and not listed for sale, lots of new work. My anxiety has previously tied me up in knots over how to put work for sale out there without imposing upon people. This is something I’ve always struggled with, but it had become worse over the last few years. Funnily enough, now that I have my life to myself again, I find that much of my anxiety (despite my circumstances) has dissipated. So I’ve been sorting out pieces that I made and never shown, all of which needed photographing, such as these little rocking horses that I made in Spring 2019. And to my surprise, things are selling.
I have twenty patterns to shoot and make samples for, as well as all the writing and supporting photographs, with an April deadline. My problem is juggling all the things I have to do and make to earn enough to survive every month, with the enormous amount of work involved in putting a book together. (There are only so many hours in the day, no matter how early I start).
It won’t be published until later in 2021, and then it should be a huge boost to my career. I hope to be able to get enough new custom from the publicity to keep the cottage going. That’s the plan. My problem - and what is tying me in panicked knots - is whether I can manage to get to that point before I have to sell up. So if you are reading this and have bought anything from me, whether it be craft materials, art, prints, cards, needle felt work, kits, Patreon support, Zoom workshops - everything large or small - thank you. You are literally helping me to keep the roof over my head, because I’ve just about managed to make the mortgage for the last three months, without Joe’s help. And I feel quietly proud about that.
2.11.20
My Aunty Dora
Now, bear with me, while I explain. I had (as some of you may have) several ‘aunties’, all of a certain age, some of whom were bonafide aunts, some who were a kind of cousin or just friends of my mother’s. I had an Aunty Dora, who lived in Yeovil, Somerset and she was a proper aunty. We didn’t have holidays as such, but usually once a year mum and I would go to stay with Dora for a while. I loved her and always looked forward to our visits. Apart from the novelty of being in a more modern, comfortable household than ours, with a television, proper wall to wall carpeting and a dining table, she was very kind and fun to be with. She always had a little gift for me; just simple things, but I was easily pleased and when she gave me a small plastic box full of brightly coloured map pins (the kind with fatter ends, which I’d never seen before) I was thrilled; she’d brought them back from her job at the Milk Marketing Board, I think. Once when we arrived, she gave me a empty blue glass perfume flagon which still smelled fragrant and every time I sniffed it afterwards it reminded me of our stay with her. And a matchbox sized green plastic television which had a blank grey screen, but when you looked in the peephole in the back, it showed a photo of picture of Spain or France or somewhere exotic, and when you clicked the button on the top, the picture changed.
30.10.20
Sundown
So many learning curves...I have restructured my Zoom classes now, so that they can be easily bought from my Etsy shop in one purchase - the kit and the one-to-one session, with date and time of choice, meaning that I can work around time zones, and I am offering free kit postage in the U.K. Each kit contains plenty enough wool for the project, which means that once someone has made their first toadstool with me, they can make more in their own time. So far I have only toadstool workshops available, but next week should see one or two seasonal projects added.
15.10.20
A scenic U-turn
I have been busy juggling various things and have been amazed that my new Patreon page has gained twelve lovely subscribers since I launched it last week. It’s been good to have a safe place, where I can post freely and chat more easily with people. With the benefit of subscriptions, I’m able to take the time to craft longer, photo rich posts, and update more regularly here. I’ve also added three extra tiers, which allow people to save towards a small piece of my work over six months.
7.10.20
A new path winding
This is the field which is situated right under my bedroom window. When I first moved here, eight years ago, it was populated with a small herd of milking cows, who often slept directly under my window so that on summer nights, when I had the window open, I could hear the moist huffle of their warm breath and low grunting as they shifted their bodies to a more comfortable position. It was a friendly, reassuring accompaniment as I fell asleep.
My life too has undergone some radical changes since moving here, as many of you know. I am on a new and uncertain journey, with no idea of where I will end up. The young farmer has cut a new path in the field recently, for field access. It winds gently and has a sinuous grace of its own. I rather like this new addition to my view and if I were of a mind to take it as a sign, I would see it as a good one.
After much agonising, I have started a Patreon page. I have previously balked at paid-for content, preferring my blog to be ad-free and available to everyone, which I have done for over fifteen years. Now I am pulling all my resources together, as I am at real risk of losing the roof over my head and I have to make every hour count for something. So for a small monthly contribution, I have set up a ‘plus’ version of this blog, where I will post every week. I realise it won’t be for everyone, however it will enable me to share a more private side of my life here; what the inside of this shabby cottage looks like, how I’m feeling and with the extra freedom, be able to get out more and share the surrounding countryside with you. As I settle down, I will be offering more tiers with extra benefits.
‘Birds in the roof and toadstools inside’
4.10.20
Heading onwards with toadstools
What a month it has been. So many thanks for the supportive comments, advice, emails and messages - who knew there was so much love in the world? I’ve been a little taken aback at how much there is, but profoundly grateful, as it has been an immense help.
I’ve had my self indulgent week of beating my breast and wailing - it was inevitable, but it’s over now and I feel cleansed and strangely calm, under the circumstances. I have spent the last week organising and planning - some plans that I was already putting in motion before things went wrong, and some new. My brain can be a slow moving animal, but with the aid of numerous lists, I am making progress and dealing with as much as possible.