Hello, welcome back, did you survive Christmas? Did you manage a sprout or two? Good job, now rejoice in the fact that it’s January, it’s cold (if you are Northern Hemisphere) and I’m sat in a shed at the top of my garden wearing a woolly hat, a scarf and wrapped in a great big wool blanket.
I have a studio, it’s here, it’s built and it sits a soggy trudge up the garden right by the chickens. I’m currently listening to cluck ‘o clock right now. There’s a raucous coming from the hen- pen which means someone’s laid an egg. Hens do like to tell you when they’ve laid an egg, it’s a thing they do. They emerge from their hen house triumphant. (I do wonder if they compare egg sizes like we do babies birth weights).
So yes, I have a shed, a space of my own, away from the house and requiring mum -head to be left at the door and me-head replaced once I enter. I’m ready surrounded by tea, pens, radio and dog and I haven’t the foggiest what to do. I’ve fought for years for space and time to do what I want and now I have it, I’m devoid of thought and my pen have been rearranged numerous times and are now in a neat little line which really isn’t me at all.
I’m sure something will come along soon.
While we’re all waiting for me to get my act together, here’s eleven ceramic owls that have found their way from the house to my shed and are sitting staring at me.
They are strangely hypnotic and I can’t help but wonder if there’s a hidden camera checking that I’m actually doing some work and not just nodding off in my chair against the little oil heater which is oh so warm.
Signing off for time with my tribe. Have a peaceful Christmas and please give a sprout a chance.
I just pulled this out of my plug hole tonight. It just kept on coming. Obviously I wasn’t going to keep this to myself so I went and traumatised the family with the pileous beastie. Much screaming ensued.
When I brought Bonnie home, Arnie left the house for three days.
When he finally returned, I had to train Bonnie not to chase after him and after a few months, we made great progress.
What has not changed from the start is that they both share the same drinking bowl. I’m always surprised at this as Arnie has a particular look he reserves for “his” dog and that is one of utter disgust. They are not friends but they tolerate each other’s existence.
Bonnie drinks like she’s had a mouthful of anaesthetic injections with plenty of dribble and slobber. As though she has never drunk water before and she’s trying it for the first time. It’s spectacular and very, very noisy.
Now this is where it gets strange. Arnie will simply not have his own bowl and wherever Bonnie’s water bowl is placed in the house, you will find Arnie waiting for his turn after the tidal wave of doggy drinking has finished. He will then stoop in a neat arrangement of paws and and lap quietly.
Dogs are strange but cats are just unexplainable.
Christmas wrapping paper, present buying, panic, panic, panic. I am not ready for Christmas, I haven’t even got the decorations out of the loft yet. The whole street is lit up like an airport landing strip and our house sits in darkness.
Hang on a minute, it’s only the 5th of December.
When did Christmas start this early?
Santa gets Elves, I want an elf, an organised one please.
Both Millie and Evie read to themselves these days, Evie is following her sister and sneaks up to her room on a regular basis to borrow and replace her books.
I am read to by Gruff these days, I have insisted that I get to read a story too so we both benefit, (and the cat does too of course).