Wishbone Soup Cures Everything

Wednesday 3rd February 2021 Returned to work on Monday with my lists of little things to achieve each day, to balance the lack of other adventures in this, the third of our UK lockdowns. Checked rota and found myself not working more than usual shift pattern for two weeks consecutively which feels like I am still on holiday. 😊 Yesterday we stocked up on top soil, potting compost, vermiculite; bought seeds for savoy cabbage and tarragon, and I treated myself to new secateurs (lost a pair in the garden somewhere). 💚 We took the van, also picking up an old window which later will be a solar dehydrator and water heater, and wood for replacing the polytunnel door, which was too long for the van. Mr had to borrow a saw and bespoke the lengths in rain so heavy it was near solid. 💧 This morning after stretches and dog walking I lugged new topsoil onto the polytunnel beds, pruned the small apple tree, cooked mushrooms on the woodburner. Right now I am about to brew extra coffee and crack...

On the first day of this year Bodmin Moor is snow-cloaked. I am full of the joy of this as I top the hill towards St Austell and see two lots of fire engines hosing a house fire, the roof and upper story ablaze. On the first Monday of this year, weary and early driving to work, stopped at traffic lights- look up, see a circle of seagulls around a half moon.  Home life is cosy. Mr, me, and Dog walk up the long hill out of freezing mist into sunshine, then down to the small woods. On the way we stop to watch a nonchalant red fox snuffling in the hedge; on the way back a robin chirrups at us like it is asking for food. It is cold and sunny all day. Shovel the last of the dirt from compost bay 3 into the wheelbarrow, up to the polytunnel. Tie up the palm tree leaves, put the cold weather fleece on the lime tree. Come indoors with icy fingers. There is good food slowly cooking. Dreams wander into strange places: there’s a supermarket with sea monsters undulating in the open freezers; ...

Writing Goals For 2021  After a brief festive respite, the novel in progress is being dragged into the light of the new year. It has taken a few complicated turns and far too many timelines but I'm wrestling it back to sense. This is the first proper fiction I've written in a long while, other than short mostly hilarious stories, my to-date published books for adults have been written from life. The joy of the ordinary is not missing from this new work, it has merely been joined up with various invented* entities and realms. To keep the plot focused and because I find it the hardest least enjoyable bit of writing I am here attempting to put together a book jacket blurb.  Please read and send feedback - no offense will be taken - I have no idea if the following makes sense let alone if it would entice a reader...  The novel itself needs some pragmatic restructuring but should be a reasonable first draft before this year is done. This, plus more blogging which will be (perf...

 A Secret We Nearly Kept!  Thursday 3rd December 2020 Walked around two fields, liked them. Phoned the estate agents, decided to offer the guide price. Woke up at 2am in an indecisive panic. Should we shouldn’t we do this? Annoyed at myself for wasting time with worry when the offer could go nowhere. We have made offers before. The velvet jacket I didn’t buy in the Hospice shop appears in a half awake dream. Don’t have regrets, it is telling me. It was such soft velvet and only £4. These are south facing fields near the River Deer, nearly 5 acres. A small stable block, mature hedging, a corner of woods. Somewhere a mains water connection Friday 4th December 2020 I go to the Post Office, the haberdashers, the stationers, the homebrew shop, ticking off a list. Head home. Mr has just finished a phone call. Offer accepted. We are scared - not as much as before. Excited, manageably. There is an ease to it. It isn’t exactly as imagined because it is real. We are too amazed to tell a...

~Shelf-Elf Barry And The Christmas Pandemic Protocol Situation~ [cultural note: the writer is British and by jumpers she means sweaters; also custard creams are a type of biscuit] Two years had passed since Barry had almost destroyed Christmas with four accidentally overanimated ugly Christmas jumpers. He had been given counselling and gone back to work with an understanding support team. He felt older and wiser now just like Santa had said he would, although he still had the dreams from time to time. He held up his Shelf-Elf storyboard, which was nearly finished ahead of schedule. ‘Seems like you’re getting on well. Chocolate raisins are always funny, hohoho! Just the last scenario to do, eh? Remember that mistakes are important for learning, Barry, I’ve made gazillions of them. So many I couldn’t  even learn from all of them or my brain would get too big and my head could explode. Do your best as often as possible, Shelf-Elf, allow a margin for error.’ ‘Thank you Santa.’ ‘Back t...

~ Words on beginning the Winter Festivities ~ Monday 30th November 2020 Autumn’s last calendar day. The season puts on a thick mist coat so I picture it flouncing out with flaming leaves at its hem, russet apples tumbling behind. Winter clatters at the door, all cold bones and tense sparkling hope. Last night I had driven home connected to a clear night, moon above, fuel warning light pipping, songs turned loud: it was like old poor times, the good energy of it, the leap of faith. This night I drove home through wails of mist, fuel levels contently full, songs still loud: the good energy of repleteness. My fear of comfort is diminished, I note, and this brings an excitement. Am I ready? Yes. Tuesday 1st December 2020 In bed drinking coffee, having first admired the crazy moon lighting the morning sky silvery bright; the sun behind us was arriving as though poured slowly from a jug. Welcome to winter. This first day is a list of simple pleasures: setting up cold protection in t...