Where Life Meets Art

Here We Go Again.

2012-01-23T13:23:00.001Z

I'm in a bit of a state. A year ago, my lovely husband took what seemed to be the perfect job. And it was, on paper. A year later, he could no longer bear to work there, for reasons I won't go into here, and handed in his notice. He finished on 31 December, and has not been able to find more work. Anyone looking for a good Finance Director anywhere in the UK, please feel free to shout out!

So... we have roughly £60 a week coming in until he gets another job, or six months passes, whichever comes first. This has happened before, so we know how to handle it, but I thought I would record my attempts to save money, make do and mend and all those lovely things that we promise ourselves we will do when it's not strictly necessary, and immediately start to do when it is.

I've started by cooking up a storm; this has halved our food bill. I think this is probably the most straightforward contribution I can make to our joint finances. No convenience food of any kind, less meat, more veg, and home made cake and biscuits (this week, it's banana bread). Strictly speaking, the cake etc is not necessary, but everybody has to have a little sweetness in their lives... And the challenge is to use everything up... no throwing out. At the moment, there's not all that much in my fridge, but I made fish pie yesterday, and made enough for two meals. The tomato sauce I made to mix the fish into, I made a double amount of, and that is waiting in a container for me to make pizza. There's some pork mince, some of which will be cooked with doughballs, and some as a chilli.

Not throwing anything out means using the disasters, too. I made some flapjacks with maple syrup,which didn't work too well, and crumbled as I took them out of the pan (note to self, leave overnight before removing from pan...the ones I had abandoned came out beautifully this morning, sigh.) So, I made too much custard yesterday (that was to go with the remains of a chocolate and maple syrup sponge which I'd made from stuff in the storecupboard). I've mixed that with a little creme fraiche and the remains of the lemon curd I made at Christmas (no more of that, it's an indulgence...) Then I stirred the flapjack crumbs into the mix. It tastes very nice...very rich, certainly, so small portions are on the cards, which means it will go further...hurrah.

I've applied for a couple of jobs, though given that I've been out of the job market for some time, it seems unlikely I'll get anything. So, just in case things get out of hand, and we have to sell the house, I'll be doing the other half of my domestic diva impression, and finishing off all the jobs that I should probably have done years ago...and hopefully get rid of my son's possessions...which would give me a lot more room to play with! So watch this space for more wittering about downsizing, repairing and generally tarting up...

Lucky Me.

2010-05-24T10:01:00.004+01:00

I thought that today, on my 50th birthday, I'd do a bit of stocktaking. This has to be the best part of my life...I am surrounded by friends and family, our son is about to marry a lovely girl, and I am living my dreams with a wonderful, supportive, loving husband in a beautiful house in the Norfolk countryside. It sounds idyllic, doesn't it? I agree, and it is.

It wasn't an auspicious start... I was the 'wrong' sex; my mother wanted a boy, hoping that her married partner would divorce his wife and marry her, rather than just living with her, if she gave him the much wanted son... It didn't work, of course. My birth wasn't registered; it's not the kind of welcome you hope for. And those of you who know me know that I have spent a significant amount of time unravelling the emotional damage of a difficult relationship with my mother, an alcoholic. Finally, though, over the past couple of years, that has all been put behind me, as much as it can be, and I live a joyful, creative life. I am indeed, very lucky.

I wanted to say thank you to everyone who has sent me birthday wishes on facebook or elsewhere, and hug all my lovely friends who add joy and laughter to my life. I hope everyone has a happy, happy day! And remember... above all, change is possible. Or, as someone smarter than me once said, 'It's not what is done to you that is important, it's what you do with what was done to you'. I have changed my life for the better...and if I can, what's stopping you?

Froggy Went A-Courtin'...

2010-03-21T21:37:00.004Z

and, judging by the amount of frog spawn in the pond, he did so with considerable effect. Well, they, really...four that we've seen, and probably more lurking in the depths of the pond. It's amazing the difference a week has made, turning the pond from frozen stillness to a hive of activity (possibly an unfortunate mixed metaphor, there, but...). A couple of ladybirds were paddling on the surface of the pond today, and we noticed several water beetles as well as the frogs. Doubtless there'll be newts there, too, but we haven't seen them yet. The daffodils are coming out, snowdrops and crocuses still flourish, and all's well with the spring garden. Hurrah!

I hadn't realized how fast the time was passing, haven't written here for over a year. Must Try Harder... but it's unlikely to be in the next couple of weeks, as I'm off to the North for a week shortly, to visit friends and relations and have A Good Time!

Breaking Negative Cycles

2009-01-30T18:02:00.003Z

I spent a lovely day yesterday visiting my niece. Those of you who know my story, will know that my family situation was seriously dysfunctional. Social workers talk about 'the cycle of abuse', I read somewhere. They say it takes three generations for an abusive pattern to disappear. My niece has been estranged from her mother until recently, just as I was estranged from my sister, her mother. So I thought I would tell her some family stories.

When I think about it, there have been patterns that have indeed repeated themselves in our story, though they in themselves were not abusive. My mother married in her teens, as did my sister and myself, whilst my niece had her first baby in her teens. As we talked, we agreed that we had all done so to escape a difficult family situation. Of all of us, I am the only one to remain married to the same person; all the other relationships have broken up. My mother was estranged from her mother for a time, just as I was estranged from mine for over twenty years, my niece from hers. All for different reasons, but it's interesting to see those patterns emerge.

But it is equally interesting to see the patterns break. My own son, beloved, decided not to get married last year, as he felt it wasn't right for him. Another niece is pursuing a university degree, with no signs of marriage imminent. My sister's second marriage is over twenty years old (as it were). Whilst the niece I visited is bringing up two joyful, happy, secure children on her own. I'm sure it's not easy, but she is making a wonderful job of it!

Why am I telling you this? I think, because it is so hopeful. There has been so much pain in our family over the years, but there are clear signs that that pain is, if not over, at least muted. That our behaviours are no longer causing such pain in our children, and hopefully, that they will not adopt such behaviours with theirs, if and when they choose to have them. Tolstoi said that all happy families are the same, but that all unhappy families are unique in their circumstances (a misquote, but it's close). What he didn't add, was that change is possible, and that when it happens, the pleasure of creating strong familial ties is even stronger than it otherwise might be. If you are in the situation I was, take heart. Change is possible. And know that you are not alone, either. Lots of us struggle with such issues, and not only survive, but grow, change and learn. I wish you luck on the journey.

Starry, Starry Night...

2009-01-28T12:17:00.002Z

I went for a wee wander around some blogs and found this quiz on Janine's blog.
She turned out as a Hermit...I, on the other hand, came out as a star. I love the stars; we have no street lights in the village, so we can see them clearly most nights... and the tarot card is intriguing. Does it match me? I would like to think so.

You are The Star

Hope, expectation, Bright promises.

The Star is one of the great cards of faith, dreams realised

The Star is a card that looks to the future. It does not predict any immediate or powerful change, but it does predict hope and healing. This card suggests clarity of vision, spiritual insight. And, most importantly, that unexpected help will be coming, with water to quench your thirst, with a guiding light to the future. They might say you're a dreamer, but you're not the only one.

What Tarot Card are You?
Take the Test to Find Out.

Happy Soup!

2008-12-12T13:18:00.005Z

As I've said on this much neglected blog before now, when it gets cold, I start making soup. My friend Dean told me that sweet potato, eaten pretty much however you like, has tryptophan in it, an amino acid which encourages the production of serotonin in the brain. If, like me, you suffer from depression, that's a good thing to do; I take medication to help with serotonin uptake, but some natural help is not to be sneezed at. So now, soup with sweet potato in it is lovingly known as happy soup in our household. Hot, thick, rich and sweet tasting, it's delightful. I make mine with onions, carrots and turnip, with a few spices added just for interest (thai curry spices, if you're interested), but any veg that happen to be around can be added in. Find out more about this; just google sweet potato and depression. Not the most likely of combinations, but it works!

But if we're talking real comfort food, then there's nothing to beat Heinz Tomato Soup and some bread and butter...yum. I make my own tomato soups, but always have a tin of Heinz in the cupboard for emergencies. And it's good without bread, too (we ran out today, so I'm having some HTS without...). And there's some fruit loaf to follow. Not that I'm obsessed with food... but it is that kind of a day!

Life Is Simple...

2008-10-08T09:40:00.003+01:00

when you're a parrot. Cupboard door shut? Och, just open it. Throw a few bits and pieces on the floor. Invite a friend to come and have a look around. Then get fed up and shut the cupboard door, only to change your mind and open it again... an entertaining cycle that could go on all day. Of course, it does nothing for the cupboard door....

I stopped to visit my friend Terry on the way back from York. She has a fair number of animals (though not as many as Alison, which is another story entirely); three cats, a dog, two horses, all of whom I met and stroked. Even Monty the Parrot! And didn't get bitten for my pains, for once. This is unusual; every time I've met Monty, he has given me a bit of a nip, which Terry assures me is 'affectionate'. A Likely Story. But isn't he gorgeous? I have some of his discarded feathers, which I keep promising myself to make into something or other... eventually... soon...

A Funny Thing Happened...

2008-06-14T11:26:00.004+01:00

in the supermarket the other day. I had begun to pack my shopping, and Robin disappeared off to do something, buy a lottery ticket, I suspect, and just at that moment... the battery in my hearing aid failed. It beeps furiously when that happens. You would think that a couple of bleeps would suffice, just enough for you to screech and switch the *!?* thing off, but no, it seem to continue ad infinitum. That wasn't the funny thing, though. We had Rather A Lot Of Shopping, but the girl at the checkout, after the cursory, do you need help with your packing, was doing her best to ignore the fact that I was swamped and my assistant had disappeared. Until something fell off the conveyor belt. I didn't catch what she said, the first time, so she had to repeat it. Something fell off the conveyor belt. Oh, sorry, says I, I'm slightly deaf and my hearing aid just failed, so I'm not hearing as well as I could be. Oh, right, she says. And as I go to pick up whatever it was on the floor, she starts helping me to pack my shopping... and continues solicitously even after Robin reappeared and took over.

I can't begin to discuss the issues I see here. Does she think deaf people can't pack shopping? That I am less of a person for having some difficulty hearing? In which case, I wonder what would happen if I started wearing a 'Chronic Depressive' t-shirt? Would I get better service, or worse? Or was it all just a coincidence? I don't know. And probably never will. I thought it was funny, so I thought I'd share it with you. But my, it could get wearing... or incredibly useful...depending on how you look at it!

ps the image proves just who is in charge in this household. If there isn't food in the bowl in the studio, one of us cries until I go back to the house to supervise our eating. Not to add food, you understand, I top up the bowls before I go, just to be companionable while (usually) Mollie chomps her way through a few mouthfuls of dry cat food. Sigh.

It Seemed Like A Good Idea...

2008-06-03T10:47:00.004+01:00

at the time, said Millie. Tidy garage, cat able to climb, roofspace looks inviting... I'm sure you can put two and two together with the image, and understand that Millie wasn't quite so happy about it once she'd done it... but she did manage to get herself down. Eventually. With a lot of mewing and crying and looking indignant. As if we'd forced her to go up into the garage roof.

My bloomer of the day is actually going to affect the week. Robin is away in Manchester until Friday; he rang last night to say that my handbag, complete with purse, was lying in his car. Oops. No credit cards, no cash... at least I have my keys here. Double ooops, as I'm going out with the girls on Thursday. Here's hoping the bank will cooperate and cash a cheque... it's not easy going to your branch when it is in Scotland, you are in England and you don't have any money or cards... Oh well. Good excuse to spend time with the art...if excuse were needed...

Poor Me...

2008-03-27T20:12:00.001Z

says Advo. In the snow, and with A Sore Paw. Those of us who are observant will notice that he is holding up The Wrong Paw... the one with the elegant shaving at the shoulder is the one that actually had the tooth in it. That has healed nicely, but Advo is not a cat who will let an opportunity for petting and treats pass him by. How else do you think he developed that waistline (or lack of one...).

What's In My Name?

2008-03-11T13:25:00.002Z

Depends on how you look at it. If you do a search on my name on Google, you come up with me, right enough, but also with assorted Marion Barnetts, some of whom are male and play football, others that have associations wtih banks, others with churches... a mixed bag of Marions.

However, if you believe this little quiz, I am also all these things...some of which I suppose I am. It's accurate enough to be interesting, and inaccurate enough to be funny... you might like to try it. (Paranoid, moi??? Err...).

What Marion Means

You are confident, self assured, and capable. You are not easily intimidated.

You master any and all skills easily. You don't have to work hard for what you want.

You make your life out to be exactly how you want it. And you'll knock down anyone who gets in your way!

You are usually the best at everything ... you strive for perfection.

You are confident, authoritative, and aggressive.

You have the classic "Type A" personality.

You are wild, crazy, and a huge rebel. You're always up to something.

You have a ton of energy, and most people can't handle you. You're very intense.

You definitely are a handful, and you're likely to get in trouble. But your kind of trouble is a lot of fun.

You tend to be pretty tightly wound. It's easy to get you excited... which can be a good or bad thing.

You have a lot of enthusiasm, but it fades rather quickly. You don't stick with any one thing for very long.

You have the drive to accomplish a lot in a short amount of time. Your biggest problem is making sure you finish the projects you start.

You are well rounded, with a complete perspective on life.

You are solid and dependable. You are loyal, and people can count on you.

At times, you can be a bit too serious. You tend to put too much pressure on yourself.

You are very intuitive and wise. You understand the world better than most people.

You also have a very active imagination. You often get carried away with your thoughts.

You are prone to a little paranoia and jealousy. You sometimes go overboard in interpreting signals.

What's Your Name's Hidden Meaning?

When The Demon Depression Comes Calling...

2008-03-01T14:53:00.004Z

I find it's the small things that chase him away, or at least relax the death grip he has round my throat. And I mean that quite literally. Today is a bad day. What that means, is that I didn't want to get out of bed. So I didn't. And that was the first step in what is proving to be a day of small steps towards feeling a bit better. I stayed where I was, and admitted that I felt lousy. The cats thought this was great...one on my chest, one tucked in at my knees, one at my feet, all asleep, the one on my chest giving a desultory purr every time he thought I looked like moving. Sometimes just admitting you feel lousy, and allowing yourself to feel it, is enough. Not today, sadly, but it was enough to get me out of bed, eventually.

The next step was to eat something. Bananas, as it happens. Good for you, energy giving, quite sweet... yum. And Robin made lunch, later, so all I had to do was eat it. Forgetting to eat makes me feel much worse than I am. And I also remembered to take my meds, including the all important iron tablet (yuk).

Then, I logged on, checked my emails, and admitted to my online friends that this was, indeed, a bad day. And I allowed myself to watch them wave and smile, and encourage me to hang on in there. Which I'm doing, folks, I promise.

And then, the ironing. Well, I felt bad to start with....might as well do a job I hate. So I have been ironing, it's productive, it's boring, but you do have to concentrate, so no thinking dark thoughts... And then I moved on to piecing Andrew and Sarah's quilt for their wedding. It's not a complicated pattern, quite the reverse, but I do have to think about the colour choices and the placement of the different fabrics (it is pretending to be a scrap quilt), so, like the ironing, it's monotonous but productive, with the additional bonus of being creative to boot.

Oh, and I've added some music, who better than Van Morrison for a bad case of the blues, and some perfume, a beautiful, bright, fresh scent that I'm trying out. And I thought I'd write all this down, a sort of recipe, in case anyone else is having a bad day. It may not work for you, but it's always worth remembering that you're not along in this, not today. Go on, do something for you. I dare you!

Behind The Scenes...

2008-02-28T14:19:00.004Z

of Etsy Barnett, things don't always run as smoothly as they might. Just look at this picture. Don't look at her, mum, says merlin, Look at me.... I'm far more beautiful than she is!!! And I'm bigger! And she doesn't have whiskers, look at mine...mum...mum...

Sigh. I bet Picasso didn't have to put up with this!!!

Isn't Spring Beautiful?

2008-02-13T16:33:00.003Z

Snowdrops in my garden on Sunday. Today, it's cold, cold, cold...but the snowdrops still look wonderful.

Thought For The Day

2008-02-12T11:54:00.000Z

I came across this in a meditation reminder email, I think it's beautiful. I wish to live like that, also...strive to.

*I Will Not Die an Unlived Life*

I will not die an unlived life
I will not live in fear
of falling or catching fire.
I choose to inhabit my days,
to allow my living to open me,
to make me less afraid,
more accessible,
to loosen my heart
until it becomes a wing,
a torch, a promise.
I choose to risk my significance;
to live so that which came to me as seed
goes to the next as blossom
and that which came to me as blossom,
goes on as fruit.

--Dawna Markova, From "I Will Not Die an Unlived Life"

No, Really, Mum...

2008-02-09T13:28:00.000Z

See, I'll show you. And I'll show HER... Molly gets into the action. Sigh. All I was doing was taking a few pictures for Etsy, Molly gets jealous of Kassandra and whumph!

It should be Advo doing the complaining...he goes back to the vet on Monday morning for further surgery on his leg. That tooth hasn't shifted, and the vet is hoping they'll be able to remove it. Fingers crossed. Addie seems to be a bit of a celebrity; apparently it's rarely seen, this condition, apart from in books...so I think every vet in the practice has looked at the x rays. Fortunately, at no extra charge!

Look At Me, Mum...

2008-02-09T13:27:00.001Z

I'm an ornament. Really. Much better than that stinky doll...

Duh...

2008-02-08T14:42:00.000Z

When you only have one pair of glasses that you rely on for everything except close work, it pays to look after them, right? I managed to knock mine off the table, and one of the lenses fell out. Sadly, trying to get it back in again proved a step too far. I somehow managed to bend one of the legs out of kilter. This led to the vision of awfulness that you see in the photo (it helps to look at the closeup...). Robin said that they reminded him of Jack Duckworth's glasses in Coronation Street. This is Not A Good Look. So...guess who was at the optician's shop this morning? The girl who helped me said that that was the worst she'd seen in quite a while. Sigh. Still...all fixed, now!

Frustration...

2008-02-07T17:36:00.000Z

thy name is glasses... I've just spent a very frustrating fifty minutes putting my glasses back together. They fell off the table I was working at, along with the small toolbox that came with the Bernina...the box is fine, but the lens fell out of the glasses, and they're now very twisted, too. Sigh.

I have one eye that is shortsighted, and one that is longsighted. This means that I have very odd looking glasses, with one pebble lens, and one skinnymalinky lens; it is, of course, the former that falls out periodically. This means that I have two pairs of glasses, one for seeing in general and the other for close work. Yes, of course, it was the general sight pair that fell apart, seeing as how I was machine quilting at the time... I had visions (not very clear ones, admittedly) of having to get someone else to drive me to the optician tomorrow to Get Them Fixed. I suspect an optician's visit would be A Good Thing, but at least I can drive myself now. I may look somewhat odd as I do it, you understand, but that's a minor issue compared to being unable to see where one is going.
Mind you, the doll in the picture, Ukraina, has no eyes at all...things could be worse!

Yup, I Really Can...

2008-01-29T12:51:00.001Z

I drove for the first time with The Aid in the ear. My, it was loud... and the cat screeching from the basket didn't help any, not to mention the birdies tweeting much louder than any birdie ever tweeted before... But I got there. And back. Without hurting anything or anyone, which is always a bonus! Advo is fine, by the way. His wound is 'healing nicely' and he's finally allowed out into the garden. Problem is, of course, that everyone is now used to having the door opened, so there are queues by the catflap every time I look. It's the first time that Merlin being incredibly thick has been an advantage; he was nutting the catflap madly every day when it was locked, trying to make it open. Now, he just strolls out, but presumably doesn't have much of a headache...

I'm dancing with the depression demons today. They've been lurking in the background for a while, but decided to come out to play. No idea why. So I went and played with some yellow paint, and felt better for a while. Think I'll go back and play some more. And if that fails, I'll have a nap. And if that fails, I'll have a bath with lovely smelly essential oils (lavender and geranium work for me, can't afford rose, sigh). I can live with this; I know the feelings will go away, and I have these strategies for dealing with it. And yellow paint is a new one, must add it to the list...

The image is Autumn Pavane, not terribly seasonal, but it's too cold to go out snapping snowdrops!

I CAN HEAR...

2008-01-26T15:36:00.000Z

sorry to shout, and all, but it's important! I was fitted for a hearing aid yesterday, and I'm now marvelling at the amount of sound that I just wasn't hearing. The television volume has been lowered by several notches... I don't ask for things to be repeated as often... I can hear what people are saying on the phone... it's amazing! It's also invisible, it hides under my hair magnificently, and unless you show it to someone, they wouldn't know it was there. Hearing impaired? Moi? Not any more!

Of course, there is a small drawback. I do hear sounds that I don't 'need' to hear. For instance, the click of the keyboard is remarkably LOUD, and I have to go out of the kitchen when the kettle is boiling, because the hiss is loud, too... but that's a small price to pay, and I'm assured that when my brain gets used to having all this audio information thrown at it, it will begin to sift out the important things again. Isn't that wonderful?

Poor Advo...

2008-01-22T12:42:00.001Z

...and poor me, too. Advo, because the vet found that he had a piece of Someone Else's Tooth lodged in his leg, which they tried to get out and couldn't, so he is wandering around the house with an open wound, in the hope that the tooth will dislodge itself. He is therefore not allowed outside. Poor Advo, and poor me, because I've become a slave to the other cats and their whims and foibles. Lemme out mum. Lemme in mum (yes, I know the catflap is opening that way, but I like to see you open the door...). No, really, mum, I do want in...sort of... I'm sure you know the drill. But I'm not feeling well, a tummy upset that kept me up half the night... so this is not a fun game, at all. Grrr. Still, Advo seems to be doing well on it...here he is on the spare bed, looking as if butter wouldn't melt. He was supervising the taking of some photographs for Etsy when I took that particular photograph... Noone would think he was a tyrant in fur...

Well, Yes...

2007-12-30T14:33:00.000Z

it has been a while. Lots of water has passed under the proverbial bridge. But before I splash about in its depths, I thought I'd give you a laugh. This is the anatomy of a photoshoot, Barnett style.

You see, the photographer didn't really think the light was good enough, but his assistant insisted. (well done, Moira...). And then this happened....

Well, it's hard to get over being self conscious (photo 1). And then when you do, they're not happy...widen your eyes, they said. What...like this...I said? Nooooooo, they said in unison. And don't do that, either. (photo 2)

But when all is said and done, these guys know what they're doing, and I got some great photos (photo 3)! Thanks to the wonderful Mike Arnold and his lovely assistant Moira!

Autumn's Arrival...

2007-09-30T11:50:00.000+01:00

reminds me of the kind of cooking I like doing...soups and stews and bread. In the summer, it's too hot for such fare, but I'm sitting writing this and smelling the wonderful scent of a slowly simmering soup (leek and tattie (potato to the non Scots among us!)). Healthy, filling stuff...no fat, very little salt, low in calories; those of us trying to Lose Weight Through Eating Healthily find these things Very Important! Just veg and water. Yum.

Joining the soup pot out of the cupboard is my slow cooker (crockpot). In there, there is diced pork, with peppers, onions, carrots, tomatoes, mixed herbs, smoked paprika, garlic...that doesn't smell bad, either, and it will taste great (she said modestly...).

Bread, though, I haven't made for a while, and it brings me back to the debate...to buy a bread machine, or not to buy a bread machine. I suspect, on the one hand, that if I did buy a machine, I'd use it. On the other hand, it feels a bit like an unnecessary expense (a bit like a yoghurt 'machine', when all you need is a bowl, some live yoghurt and a warm place...). There's nothing like a bit of hand kneading for getting rid of stress... And I do have some lovely bread recipes... And it doesn't take all that long to do by hand... Oh, decisions, decisions... I'm off to stir the soup.

Oops...

2007-09-23T17:01:00.001+01:00

I was woken at 6am on Thursday by the words, Happy Anniversary, dear, here's your present. And as usual, I had forgotten. Sigh. I'm very good with birthdays, but somehow the anniversary just falls out of my head every time. Fortunately, I was going into Norwich anyway, to buy some bits and pieces, so got my dearly beloved a sports anorak to wear to the football (he's Chairman of a local amateur team). But I did have to admit that I'd forgotten...or rather, that I didn't realise that it was the 21st on Friday...I don't keep a diary, don't really read the papers, so how would I know...the date doesn't even come up on my computer screen. I do always know what time it is, though.

And for those of you who count, it's our 28th wedding anniversary. Doesn't time fly when you're having fun? My mother stood arranging my collar on The Day and said, I give it six months. Hah. Shows what she knew... and whilst it's possible I just stuck it out to spite her, it seems unlikely, even for me...particularly as she died three years ago!

The photo was taken at an organic farm in the Borders a couple of weeks ago, just to remind me what the hills look like... the view is stunning, though.

It's All Her Fault...

2007-09-18T16:43:00.000+01:00

...that Alison woman, her and her partner, Michael. They came down to visit from Scotland, and after a whirlwind of cleaning and a bit of cooking, I got immersed in a whirlwind of sightseeing and Having A Good Time, which involved eating lots, drinking quite a bit and generally having FUN! No time to blog at all...

And now the party's over...awww...and I'm back to normality such as it is experienced here (ie messy, disorganised and full of art. You know you don't clean enough when the thing that you thought was a dried up leaf was actually a mummified mouse...either that, or I'm needing my eyes tested. It was definitely mummified, though; we saw a mummified cat at Lavenham, an exhibit at the Guild House there. Apparently they used to put dead cats up chimneys in ye olden days, to scare off bad spirits and the like. Not sure what a mouse would scare away...probably all visitors in future, if they're reading this blog...

I was also presented with a dead mouse this morning. Breakfast in bed, according to Advo. Time to get up, in my opinion. Yuk.
ps Alison, I told you I would put that photo on my blog...you didn't believe me, did you... hehehe...

Millie...

2007-08-10T19:16:00.001+01:00

looks remarkably comfortable up there, doesn't she? She's lying on some of the strips I've cut for Andrew and Sarah's quilt, and she's trying to snooze, despite the attentions of her beloved Advo. Twas not always so; when we got her, she was a frightened six month old kitten, mother of her own litter (Merlin was one of hers, the runt of the litter, apparently, but that's another story altogether.). The thing about Millie was that she had a very black and white approach to life. Cats, she said, were not allowed on the furniture. If she saw her sister Mollie up on the sofa, or Merlin, for that matter, she would box their ears and screech at them. Same if they sat on anything that wasn't a newspaper. Or even without any provocation at all. Attack first, ask questions afterwards, that was our Millie. (Mind you, she had the sense not to attack Advo, though she has been known to dot him over the nose if he importunes...).

The vet explained that she could cope with cats, or she could cope with humans, but not both together in the same household. So the other cats Got It, as we were a bit on the big side for attacking. Gradually, over the time we've had her, she has relaxed. She now sits on my knee, sometimes, purring. She gets on the bed for a snooze like everyone else; the table, too, any quilt that happens to be around, whatever. She purrs with enthusiasm when stroked, and she talks endlessly, particularly if there's no grub in the bowls.

She's a changed cat. Amazing what a lot of love will do for a cat. Or a human, for that matter.... it's all just a question of time and faith.

Froggy...

2007-08-05T17:42:00.000+01:00

was basking happily in the shallows on Friday. I haven't looked today, but given that it's around 80 deg, he's doubtless doing the same today. Though we've always lived in rural or semi rural communities, this is the first garden in which we've had a pond. It delights us both. This year, the frogs have been particularly enthusiastic, and lots of tiny baby frogs are leaping in and out of the pond. They get bottom marks for brains, though; I put in a 'bridge', a piece of wood that I thought would be easier for them to use to get out of the pond. Instead, they ignore it, or, in one or two instances, scramble up the side of the 'bridge' to get to the edge of the pond and then climb up the much steeper incline. This is not the brightest behaviour I've ever seen in an animal...

The newts are incredible too. Every so often, there's a flash of orange belly in the pondweed, and another newt sculls by. They are such beautiful animals, in movement and repose. And then of course, there's the dragonflies dancing around the pond. We didn't have dragonflies in Scotland, their shimmering grace is a delight.

And then, of course, there's the domestic animals, the four cats. Or is it five? We seem to have acquired a fifth, or at least a half of a fifth (the half that eats...). Black as midnight, thin as a rake, with a torn (and healed) ear and a terror of all humans (I'm sure it's not just us...). Not sure if it's a he or a she, but it gets on tolerably well with all the cats here, though we do hear it crying a lot, perhaps it's more of an armed truce. It does have a tendency to sneak in when nobody's looking, and wolf up whatever food is around at a rate of knots. We heard it coughing yesterday, and hope that it'll calm down around us sufficiently for us to be able to see if it really is ill, and if so, to allow us to help it. I'm planning to spend a bit of time in the garden next week, preparing a place for my new shudio, perhaps we can get to know each other a bit better that way... though my four tend to congregate around me in the garden, as if to say, hey, what *are* you doing here, this is our space...

Losing It

2007-07-25T11:02:00.000+01:00

I go through life forgetting, misplacing, and downright losing things. It used to be handbags, as a teenager. It took a while to remember that I was carrying one at all...and more than one bank account has been frozen while I look for the bag in which the cheque book was carried. And yes, I've been known to mislay a credit card, but that was later... What else? Keys were a favourite. But for some reason, the current 'lostit' is my camera. Which is a Big Problem, as I can't take pictures for my blogs...or the book...or anything else for that matter. (This is a pic of Oxburgh, taken some time ago; blogging without pictures seems somehow unnatural.)

So, I mentioned it to Robin, who wandered around the house, muttering. How could anyone *lose* a camera, particularly a camera the size of mine, with a Big Lens. How could anyone *lose* something that had cost so much money (he's an accountant, bless him, he can't help himself). He didn't say, stupid woman, but it was all in there between the lines...

This is not the first time I've lost a camera, of course. I lost the first digital I had during the move to Norfolk. I had it in the temporary house, and then suddenly didn't have it when we moved to our permanent address. I thought I'd put it in a box, but I'd unpacked all the boxes, and it didn't turn up... Lost, right? So I bought another (the one that's currently lost). And three months after that, I opened the box with the computer stuff in it and...there was my camera, nestling securely amongst the discs, grinning smugly. There had been logic in that, of course. I'd figured that I wouldn't lose the box with the discs in it, so that made it a good place to put the camera, which does, after all, have a connection with the computer, so I'd remember, right? (Wrong, as it turns out, but it was a good thought...). So that camera went to a friend, and I kept my nice shiny new one...only to...misplace it.... sob. Anyone seen a camera???

Drookit.

2007-07-20T16:29:00.000+01:00

Very. I'm grateful that I didn't have to go out today, as after a grey start to the day, it started to rain around 2pm and has only just stopped. We have a puddle the size of a paddling pool outside the front door, but, fortunately, nothing worse. Sally was on the phone this morning prior to moving all sorts of things from the ground floor to the upper parts of the house, but fortunately, despite her worries, the stream in her garden stayed where it was supposed to...though some neighbours have flooded houses to contend with.

I suspect the only creatures happy about the rain in our garden are the newts and frogs. We've been watching the frogs metamorphose from wiggly, squiggly tadpoles to miniscule frogs that can leap far higher than their own height. I do wonder about their sense of direction, or just their sense, perhaps, as they spend ages scrambling out of the pond only to take a leap one way, then leap straight back in again, and begin the process All Over Again.

I, on the other hand, having intended to go out and start Cutting Things Down to allow the erection of a large shed, or should that be shudio, decided that discretion was the better part of valour, and remained undrookit. Works for me.

ps drookit in Scots means soaked or drenched. As in the expression 'ye look like a drookit rat', which I'm sure was applicable to lots of people in the UK today...

Wipe Out...

2007-07-14T09:49:00.001+01:00

pretty much sums up the last week. Tiredness is a theme of my blogging, and it caught up with me properly last week. You know what they said about Ginger Rogers, that she did everything that Fred Astaire did, but backwards, and in high heels... well, that was the comparison between teaching in English and teaching in French. Being my usual stubborn self, though, I refused to admit how tired I was and...cleaned house... (What? I hear you holler...you mean you got overtired over housework???). Err, yes. Silly me.

Today, though, I feel better. So I'm going to rest some more, and on Monday, go find out if I'm anaemic yet again, and discuss what to do about it... that should be entertaining for one of us, at least.

My lovely son is now recuperating from a knee operation last week, he's not known as Hopalong for nothing...get well soon, Andrew...seen here making faces at his father's 50th birthday celebration. Pretty typical, really. Sigh.

I Read, Therefore I Am.

2007-07-05T16:42:00.000+01:00

is the way it must seem to most people who visit us, what with books piled everywhere, and me with my nose in one whenever the opportunity presents itself. I read several at a time, usually, though not simultaneously, of course, that would be sillier than I usually allow myself... Currently, I'm reading a Christopher Brookmyre book, which is a joy. He is a Scottish satirical writer, and is one of the few people whose writing makes me laugh out loud.

Another Scottish favourite is Isla Dewar, a completely different kettle of fish, but with the same pawky humour as Brookmyre. And the rest of the Scottish population, of course! Unlike when reading Lewis Grassic Gibbon, though, or even Rabbie Burns, you don't have to take a crash course in Scots As It Is Spoke in order to enjoy these writers. They're contemporary, slick, funny and relevant to life as it is lived wherever you are. Everybody knows a Magda, the eponymous heroine of Dewar's first book. Whilst Brookmyre's politicians could be slithering around anywhere in the world, I suspect. I do read lots of other writers, from other cultures, but whenever I need cheering up, these two are always close to hand. Which is more than can be said for my reading glasses...but that's already been told on the other blog...

And Now...

2007-07-03T16:21:00.000+01:00

for something completely different. Monday is washday, we all know that, right? So on Monday, I stripped the bed and washed the linens. I have to admit to detesting ironing bedcovers with a passion, so I have a tendency to hoard them. On Monday, though, in the interests of wiping the slate clean (or in this case, killing the ironing with a single stroke...or series of strokes...), I brought the ironing board downstairs, planning to watch mindless television whilst I ironed.

As you can see from the pictures, the cats had other plans. First, it was Advo, the oldest of the four, and quite a tart, as you can see from the photo. He was sound asleep, and I didn't have the heart to move him, so I went off to do something else. A bit later, I came back and found that Millie had joined the sleep in. She adores Advo with a passion which is really not returned. There she was on the floor, sound asleep, so I left them to it.

Later that afternoon, near cat dinner time, I went to see what the story was. You'll note that Millie has got herself nicely up in amidst the washing (and right on my blue silk trousers), happily esconced beside Her Hero, Advo. Both are glowering...how dare you disturb us from our slumbers with that noisy camera??? I've said it before, and I'll doubtless say it again; a mother's place is in the wrong. Even if it's only the cats who think it. Or should that be, especially? Happily, the word 'dinner' makes up for a lot. With cats as with kids!

At least I no longer have kids to deal with...well, only at the end of the phone!

Down, Down, Down?

2007-07-02T10:41:00.000+01:00

Courtesy of the new operating system, Windows Vista, I have newsfeeds on my desktop; as they are generally from US news stations, I don't tend to read them, unless something catches my eye. Today, though, there was a comment from MNSBC news, that over the last five years, there has been a 20% increase in visits to doctors and hospitals in the US, and the most commonly prescribed item is antidepressants. Apparently, in the area where I live, I have heard that this last is also true. There are a lot of us out there taking antidepressants.

Now, this isn't a rant about whether or not to take medication; I take mine religiously every day, and am profoundly grateful for the difference it makes in my life. Rather, I'd like to understand something that has puzzled me for several years now. I have two chronic illnesses, asthma and depression. My asthma is under complete control, and has been for many years, yet the surgery insists that every year, I attend a clinic, so that one of the nurses can check that that is indeed the case (as if I'd lie about it...). It takes about ten minutes maximum, usually less. My depression, though, is not under anybody's control, really, or no more than intermittently, and hasn't been for many years. Yet there is no annual clinic, no check to see that things are progressing as they should. Nobody mentions it, ever, unless I bring it up as an issue. It's as if it wasn't there.

I've been treated for depression, on and off, for most of my adult life. It seems wrong to me that the only time anyone is interested in the progression of the illness is when I'm in crisis. And as soon as the crisis is resolved, I'm deemed able to manage it on my own. Which I can, if I'm relatively well. But depression is an illness that clouds your judgement; it can be difficult for me to say if I'm ill or not. I live with a certain level of 'negative noise' in my head, for example. Most people do, I think, it's just that mine is a tad more extreme, and more persistent. I don't want to make a big deal of it, particularly, but I do find it useful when those working with me on my health actually acknowledge to me that I live with this illness, that it doesn't go away, and that it affects the whole of my life. So why isn't there an annual clinic for people like me, those whose depression is chronic, whose lives are lived around the illness, or despite it, perhaps? If it did nothing but acknowledge that the illness is there, and is real, and is nothing to be ashamed about, if it simply encouraged the person who lives with it, that it is worth persevering, then that would be a gain.

But I don't believe that that would be the only gain. Crisis management is expensive. If I have a crisis, it has the potential to involve not just my GP and the practice based local psychiatric nurse, but also a psychiatrist, plus a psychiatric consultant, plus possibly at least one member of a crisis team, usually a psychiatric nurse. That's a lot of people, and a lot of time, and a lot of cost. If a potential crisis could be recognised, and averted, by a short screening meeting, or by action taken after such a meeting, surely it would be significantly more cost-effective than waiting until the crisis breaks? Throwing money at a problem isn't usually the best way of solving it. Prevention is always better than cure, they say. I'm sure they're right. I'd just like to have the chance to prove it. Sadly, I doubt I ever will, and the illness will go on being ignored. As will I.

Going Domestic...

2007-06-29T10:59:00.000+01:00

in more ways than one. I've been tidying up...my paint studio is gradually shrinking (maybe I don't need that shed after all...), and you can see the floor in my conservatory. I'm intending to work on this during the weekend, so there is a distinct halo of virtue around my head. My grannie would say to take care, in case it slips and chokes me...but hey.

The other domesticity is the beginnings of a bed quilt. I don't DO bed quilts, but this is for my son's wedding next year. My soontobe daughter in law wanted something in browns, and had a list of What Not To Include. I've tried to stick to it...honest I have... but some of those colours just err...slipped in there... as contrasts, you know. The quilt itself will be a scrap quilt, will include some of my handdyes, and will have bits of novelty cloth...you know the kind of thing. Music and books for my son, for example, who is obsessed with both. Just things to personalise the quilt for them. And of course, I hope they like it. If they don't, though, I rather hope they'll be brave enough to say so; I'd rather make them one they *do* like than have them have to tolerate one they don't.

The picture is of some of the selection of cloth I bought yesterday, which is now in the washing machine. Guess who'll be ironing this evening...sigh...

Dozy...

2007-06-26T20:21:00.000+01:00

as usual, I hear you holler. Well, not quite. Travel is A Wonderful Thing, but I get really tired when I do it, or anything else that's particularly out of the usual. Tiredness is a recognised symptom of the demon depression, and I struggle with it quite a bit. So I've done the sensible thing, and taken everything out of my diary for this week, other than a meeting with my therapist, so that I can recover properly.

Recovering properly means, in my book, sitting with Mollie on my knee, or Advo, or anyone, really (not Robin, he's too heavy!). Sleeping a lot, reading a bit, catching up on the su-doku I didn't do last week (Robin kept the Times supplements for me), just generally loafing about, though I did do a bit of washing today in a fit of something or other... and, of course, talking to folks on the phone. I've come back with lots of ideas for creative work, but they'll keep until I'm sure I've got enough energy to take them forward. I used to just keep working on...and on...and on...until I dropped. I don't do that any more. It's not good for me, and it's not good for the work, either. Besides, the cats need the occasional good cuddle...that's my excuse, and I'm sticking to it.

So I'll look at this lovely, peaceful photo (Oxburgh again), and be reminded that being still is good for both body and soul...sometimes.

Awww...

2007-06-16T19:03:00.000+01:00

aren't they lovely... Not content with making you look at pictures of my cats, I now force you to look at my son and his fiancee... we went up to visit them last month, and this was taken in the ruined castle in which they're getting wed. I have to admit, though, that I'm also putting this up because Sally complained that she'd had to go look at someone else's blog to see what Sarah looked like (Andrew, she had seen). So, Sally, I've Done It Now...

We have only one child, not that he's a child any more, look at that stubble...sigh... I tried it, bought the tshirt, but decided against repeating the childbirth experience. No, that isn't why I have four cats... but I did convince Sarah that she absolutely had to get herself a cat...so she got two. So clearly the cat owning bit is infectious.

What, Another One?

2007-06-13T14:05:00.000+01:00

Okay, I know. I have other blogs...

This one is different. The other blogs talk about The Art, pretty much. I've discovered that there's much more than that to talk about, and I thought I'd like a blog where I could write about The Rest Of It. The cats. The spouse. The friends. The visits. You know the kind of stuff...the stuff that happens around the art making. During the artmaking. Sometimes despite the artmaking. Though I draw the line at detailed descriptions of housework....not that I really do any, of course, but I'm good at pretending.

Of course, it might have been better to have waited until after France (see the other blog for more details)to launch Yet Another Blog on the unsuspecting world...but time is short and I'm impatient. Didn't you know that? I'm also vague, forgetful, charming, enthusiastic and above all, modest. Or, as those who know me well are aware, I used to be modest, now I'm perfect. Or was that prefect?

I live with Robin (said spouse) and four cats in a small village in Norfolk that nobody seems able to find...or maybe it's just that my directions are poor... No, that's unfair. I did talk to a lady the other day who said that she always got lost coming to this village. Doesn't seem to stop people finding the pub though...good food there, and an entertaining owner (I use the term loosely, your mileage may vary...). Try getting to the bar on a Friday or Saturday night...those are never all locals...

The picture is taken in the garden, and features the baby of the catty bunch, Merlin, who is very beautiful and also very thick. Thick as mince, really. Nervous to a fault, scared of his own shadow, not to mention everyone else's, but, like I said, very, very beautiful. And very, very loooong. Runs fast (gets plenty of practice). Catches the uncatchable, and usually eats it, too, (but runs away from humans and other cats, see gets plenty of practice, above...). Did he come from a Broken Home, I hear you ask? Not a bit of it. Born in a cat rescue shelter, where he got a lot of attention from us and from the lady who ran it, he came to us with his mum, Millie and 'aunt' Mollie, where he was fed and watered and loved like a prince among kittens. Did it make any difference? Did it heck as like. Nature versus nurture? Gimme nature over nurture every time. Well, okay, most of the time.

I think that's enough for now...you get the general drift... talk to you later....