Happy Christmas

 It's 16:20, I'm sitting outside, and it's not quite dark yet. There is a fire blazing in the fire pit, and I am roasting hot on the front and freezing on the back. It reminds me of when I was little and we used to swim and slide down mountain glacier streams - the dichotomy of temperature.

Neal is behind me, standing on the steps, trying to photograph the moon. The moon is almost full and rising through the pink-grey sky like a lighthouse. It's amazing, and, judging by the sighs coming from behind the tripod, Neal is getting frustrated. He has a new camera, a digital, to which he is able to affix vintage manual focus lenses. He has been ordering these from ebay with great enthusiasm (Look at this! Made in the GDR! It's only a tenner!!) but it takes time to figure out all of their idiosyncrasies, and the moon is a recalcitrant model and is not hanging about.

All of this is punctuated by two robins fiercely singing. One close, one further off. It is only from reading the robin book I bought when they nested above the door that I learned they are literally having it out. "Come on over here if you think you're hard enough. What's that little red? You talking to me? You and what army?" And yet it sounds so beautiful. I wonder how much of what we perceive of as beauty is just us, oblivious.

One of the singing robins is Jacques, named for the white racing stripe against each wing. It is usually impossible for me to tell any of the robins apart - or blue tits. There is one great tit that stands out because he is impossibly lovely - there is something about the distinction of his markings - his black bib is crisp and his feathers are stunning, I call him gorgeous George. Unfortunately he is quite an aggressive little bastard even for a bird.

It's been a quiet Christmas but a good one. It felt nice to be just us two this year, like we were for many years. In fact, the last few days have felt more normal than anything has for a long time. 

The fire is almost out and I am pretty much touch typing now as it's too dark to see. 

Happy middle days - the true mid-winter. Stay safe x

new jumper!

 

Eventually.

I did stuff today!

 Real stuff! With other people and everything! With CHRISTMAS CAROLS! (happy sigh)

I've been volunteering with a group called Trees for Farms, who work with conservation groups and farmers to plant trees and hedgerows. For a few weeks we have been digging out a bank for a new hedgerow on a farm in Conyer (about 8 km from here) and today we planted it. It's actually quite hard work (my lower back and arse are shouting now. "Oh really? WHAT WAS YOUR FIRST CLUE?").  It wasn't raining, the sun even broke through for a bit, and it was good to be outside, working, even if planting trees implies an optimism for the future that I don't particularly share right now. It reminded me of a phrase my beautiful cousin Maria shared with me years ago from Martin Luther: (transl) "If I knew that tomorrow the world would be destroyed, I would still plant today my little apple tree."

I cycled to Conyer and back (arse: WE KNOW) (do you think arse should be plural? I suppose we only have one, but there are two buttocks which implies some degree of plurality. I think plural - if only because on one of the yoga videos I (very) intermittently do, the teacher refers at one point to buttocks in the singular and no matter how relaxed I am at that point it always makes me stop and go, what?)

Anyways, with that and the digging and planting I was pretty tired but the fun was not over as, after lunch, I met with three others from the brass band and we went to the new bandstand area in the recreation ground and recorded a few (socially distanced) carols to be added to the you tube 'Carols (not) in the Marketplace'. Every December, just before Christmas, the town comes out in force to sing carols in the town square with brass band accompaniment. Obviously that can't happen this year, hence some creative work-arounds. Today the sun shone, some onlookers gathered around, and I could have played all afternoon - I would have if I could have convinced the others to stay too. I did try. The other three undoubtedly ended up playing a lot longer than they had intended. 

It's a strange December with no Christmas gigs, no carols in the Christmas markets, no cathedral concerts, no pubs. Even today, when we finished, we were all laughing and packing up and someone said, "To the pub then?" and we all stopped short - because that is exactly what would have happened and now it can't and yet again Covid lands a sucker punch.

There's more brass carols ahead - my friend John and I are hatching plans. They involve a fire pit and the end of our driveway - I'll keep you posted!

    

one froggy morning

You couldn't quite determine if the sun was up or not yesterday morning. It was misty and murky and you could almost drink the air. We pulled on our boots and waterproofs and headed out across the fields. I love it when it's like this - the surreal feeling of not being able to see or even recognise the paths you walk every day. By the time we got to the sea creek it had lightened up a bit, and the banks glistened with moisture-laden webs. They looked like holiday garlands - elf lights - and we dawdled back, pointing out web after beautiful web.

Later in the day we were crossing the rail bridge near our house, and a man and his collie were crossing the other way. The dog was super excited, and we thought he was greeting us, but he ran right past us to the middle of the bridge and looked across, panting with anticipation. We looked questioningly at his owner, who sighed, shrugged, and said, "train". Sure enough, in a few seconds, a train pulled in to the accompaniment of frenzied barks and back-and-forth manoeuvres. It was the first time I've ever seen a dog herd a train and it was impressive. When the train stopped, so did the dog, in the middle of the bridge, grinning happily and looking very pleased with himself. A job well done.

 

winter sky

 

This is the path back through the farm from the Shipwright Arms, our favourite pub and our escape, our bolt-hole, and one of the places that makes Faversham so peculiarly special. In the summer we sit on the seawall with our pints and watch the boats and the birds - the swifts darting over the marsh and the occasional kestrel and kite hunting from far above. In the winter we shed our muddy boots in the entryway and curl up on the sofa in front of the log fire, afternoons slipping away with good company (and knitting of course), and a slippery, cold walk home in the late afternoon darkness. 

The Shipwrights had to close for months in the spring, but was able to open up for takeaways in late spring. This was perfect, as the pub is in the middle of nowhere (you have to walk an hour along the sea wall to get to it - there is a road - the one in the picture - but very limited parking). We could get takeaways and sit up on the sea wall, happily distanced and safe. Social distanced seating was introduced inside in late summer and it was a quiet safe place where you could be somewhere else. The last lockdown ended that, and now Kent is to be placed in the highest tier of restrictions when that ends which means all pubs can only do takeaways. It is dire news for our small pubs, who depend on Christmas trade to see them through the winter. 

So takeaways it is - in the hopes of keeping the Shipwright going until the Spring when hopefully some of these pressures will ease up with the introduction of vaccines and warmer weather. I cycled up at lunchtime today for some weekend pints - it was far colder than I thought it would be - my eyes were streaming in the wind and my hands were numb with the cold. But the sky was beautiful - a swan took off across the marsh as I took these pictures and the light on its wings was breath-taking.

I ordered a pair of sheepskin gloves when I got home.

Home entertainment

One of the nicer aspects about spending almost all of my time in the living room is watching the birds and squirrels. We've put window feeders on all three windows, and we have a squirrel feeder outside on the fence (James's Squirrelmatic 3000 is still going although a good chunk of the lid has been chewed through). The bird feeders are like a busy rail station at times - blue tits, great tits, chaffinches, robins, and Alfred the blackbird all zoom in and out with varying degrees of intensity. Dunnocks, wrens, wood pigeons, and collared doves wait for whatever drops onto the ground (a veritable buffet when Alfred is around).

A blue tit in the sunshine

But squirrels will be squirrels. No matter what delicacies we put into their feeder (and there are delicacies - we actually bought squirrel food - it's a mix of nuts, seeds, and some dried fruit. We are SUCKERS), they cannot resist the lure of the window feeders, which they cannot reach. The outside window ledge is at least a metre high, extremely narrow - less than an inch, and angled downward. I have become attuned to the subtle yet unmistakable soft thud of squirrel belly on glass and when I hear it I drop what I am doing and watch eagerly to see what mad scheme they're attempting this time. I'm impressed by their tenacity. I think one day, one of them will succeed. I hope I see it.

Tardy

Well it has finally happened. I have become bored enough to write. There. How's that for admitting two distasteful and unflattering sentiments right up front. Part of it is, I suppose, the feeling that I don't have much to write about. That in itself is a blessing - this is not a year where you want to have war stories. To lay low and hope to emerge, ideally in one piece, at the end of it seems a logical approach.

Neal is back working at the printing warehouse for a 6 week stint. He's working 12 hour shifts, and enjoying being back with his friends and working and (please oh please for the love of everything dear on earth and in the heavens above) not catching Covid. (There are a lot of protocols in place - masks, visors, temperature taking - it is a big warehouse and he is not near others - but still). For the first few weeks I enjoyed having the time alone but it's starting to flag. For all you who are managing this living alone I salute you. You are amazing. Keep going. Hang in there. (And tell me - is it normal to talk to yourself quite a lot? Do you also answer? When should you start to worry?)

We're in another lockdown as well so it is very quiet in my life. Work is also quiet (locking down is much less labour intensive than opening up it turns out. We've gotten better at it). I think in the first lockdown, I was knackered, and the rest did me good. Now I have probably never been so rested in my life, infancy included. All that energy has to go somewhere, and if I don't get rid of it in the day it starts hammering around in my brain and that is not a good thing. So I've been covering a lot of ground - on my bike, running, long walks. It's exhausting, but it's working. 

And there are worse places to be out and about...

A hawthorn tree on the sea creek

Seasalter at high tide

The path home alongside the creek in an impossibly early sunset

Still here....

 

At once totally normal, and totally surreal

 

A partial brass band rehearsal...it got COLD when the sun dipped below the trees. That's me straight ahead - didn't realise how long that braid is getting.

That sky though.... full of swallows and even a pair of buzzards circling round and round. Made it rather hard to concentrate - kept looking up and loosing my place.

I have a week's leave this week and my goal is to be outside as much as possible before the dark days return.

The trusty steed is dead. Long live the trusty steed!

In the end, the trusty steed did not live up to its name. It had a good run, for sure, and I loved it dearly, but 2 flats, a wheel blow out, and 2 sets of broken spokes and enough is enough. 4 long walks home in as many weeks, several weeks in the shop, and a frankly terrifying acceleration of money required to maintain equilibrium led me to inquire about the possibility of replacement, mostly at Neal's bequest. "For god's sake, get a new bike," he kept repeating with increasing volume and intensity.

"Actually," said the bike shop man, we have two ladies bikes in the shop right now but you'll have to be quick because they'll go in a day." ladies bikes I sniffed to myself. I mentioned my bike woes to a few friends at knit night, and the response was eerily familiar. "For god's sake, Karly - get a new bike!" They did however tell me about cyclescheme, which it turns out my work does as well. This means I can spread the cost over 1 year, and pay before tax, making a decent savings as well. 

So I went to look at the ladies bikes. Turns out they were the ones I have been ogling in the bike shop windows for years, never imagining I could justify the cost. But with the cyclescheme, and compared to what my old one was eating up - well - 

Meet the new steed:

It's a vintage style touring bike but with a lightweight frame. It's made in Italy (ooooooh!), and comes with fenders and chain guards, lights and a bell, and (this is where you know it's Italian) a handmade white suede seat. I feel sorry for that seat and am slightly concerned about what it will look like after a few weeks of my sweaty, sand-and-sea-encrusted arse upon it.

It's no racer, but it's smooth and fun to ride. All I need to do now is attach my milk crate on the back and we're back in business!

My day started out with surprising a HUGE spider in the draining rack who then scuttled away with lightening speed while I gibbered and gasped like a landed fish and is now SOMEWHERE in the kitchen. 

It has not gotten appreciatively better either.

Not that it is a bad day, no. Just - I'm tired of adulting and fixing things and always putting a brave face on things and staying motivated and practising and cleaning up after myself and researching and problem solving and I just really feel like having a good old strop and moan even though I know it won't solve anything and won't even make me feel better. And I know I have nothing to complain about not truly and that is also not making me feel any better.

Harrumph.

Well tomorrow is another day. Marvellous. Bloody marvellous.

 

Knit night for the win!

I just got in from an evening of sitting in the rec ground drinking wine and laughing with friends. It was so much fun. Am I 19 again? No - this was so much classier (ha ha - maybe!) - this was socially-distanced knit night. I've seen most of my knit night friends around town once or twice but we haven't been together since the beginning of March. It was hot, and we sat under the chestnut trees and knit and laughed. It felt so good. Now that I'm home I feel slightly manically hyper with all the socialisation - this was the largest group (all 9 of us!) that I have been with in person for 5 months. 

On more general terms, I don't know where we're going virus-wise. I feel nervous about what's ahead and what we may be compelled to do, and what compromises we may be forced to make - but for this evening - it was really lovely. 

I have this sudden image of a fly being lured down a pitcher-plant's throat. 

I really hope this is not like that.

I spent this afternoon, like so many afternoons and mornings these days, in back-to-back video meetings. But one of them was different. It was a meeting to discuss, on a wider level, how we work, how we want to work, and what our priorities are and how we communicate them in the next 4 - 6 months. So far, so normal. What wasn't normal, was that 9 out of the 10 participants were women. Women heading departments. Women making decisions. Women doing the data crunching. Women running with it.

I have been working full time (more or less) for 28 years (give or take). I have been the sole woman in meetings so often it has become normal. I have chaired meetings where I am the sole woman more often than I can count. 

This was a first.

It's like the composition of jazz bands - of course it doesn't matter what gender you are, or identify as. But how do you BE what you never SEE? So yes, it's important, and it matters. And right now - more than ever - we need ALL the brains around the table - regardless of the casing. 

I looked at that screen and thought.

Still thinking. 

Covid-conversations

from tonight's Faversham Mission Brass Zoom call:

- Now that the restrictions are relaxed we can think about at least a few of us playing together
- J has a field at the back of her house and she says we could play there
- You can have up to 6 people at a time - we could do two shifts
- Wait - she has two fields - we could have 12!
- But there's a big hedge between them
- That's ok - just put the trombones one one side
- How would you tune between two fields?
- HA HA HA HA HA like you ever tune anyways!

Oare Marsh Frog Chorus

And now I will sing you the song of my people: 

Squirrel News

Squirrel Babies! 

The trees are alive with the frantic antics of small squirrels. Fearless, crazy, daft, funny, charming, imbecilic, sweet, beautiful squirrel youngsters. They leap with abandon and chase each other with what looks like murderous intent. Every time I see one vault from the fence to a tree I hear a small voice in my head shouting, "GERONIMO". (Do I also say this out loud, quietly, under my breath? Well, who wouldn't?)

They are much less afraid of us than their experienced parents, and one in particular will take peanuts from our hand. The other day, I proffered a peanut, and the wee squirrel put a paw out on my finger to steady it before he took the peanut. His paw was soft, like cat pads, and so delicate. Knowing squirrels are chock full of fleas and mites did nothing to diminish the magic of the moment. When I think of that delicate brush with another being I can't help but feel special and smile.

There is another little urchin who chews the feeder lid incessantly so I guess we know where THAT one came from!

Still Here Still Home

It appears I have been tardy in my blog updates. I can only assume this is a side effect of never being entirely sure what day it is. This is fine over say the 10 days of the Christmas holiday, but it's getting wearing now 11 weeks in. But we're fine - healthy and as happy as possible whilst still being even cognisantly aware of world events, although man is this ever a quiet life. There are ups to this for sure - but it is a hell of a change. Many days I embrace it. Some days I plod along. Some days I feel sad. Such is life.

We had a wonderful walk up to Oare marsh earlier this week - the weather was hot and we left early in the morning, and had it nearly to ourselves. We saw two herons flying low across the marsh. We stopped and listened to a chorus of frog song that was so free-spirited and bubbly (in every sense) that you just had to laugh. We saw a red kite soaring effortlessly round and round the sky. The tide was up and we sat on the bank and ate our breakfast. Heaven. Then on the way back we saw six (6!!!) cygnets. Bliss.

I'm still sewing, albeit with mixed results. I thought I was doing quite well (I know! I know!) until the other day when I sewed (quite beautifully) the handles of the bag I was making into the inside - between the lining and the bag. I had attached them to the wrong side and when I went to turn it the right way out they mysteriously disappeared! There was a lot of unpicking. Possibly bad language - who can say. 

Work went terribly, ominously quiet for a few weeks (queue secret worries of unemployment and eventual destitution) but it is now all guns blazing and I honestly don't know which one is worse. No one knows what is going on or what is allowed and it is our job to try to make sense of it and understand what teams need and how we make it happen. But it's always better to be busy, for me anyways. MUCH less chance of getting into trouble.

Speaking of trouble, I hear Neal pottering in the kitchen and, if I am not mistaken, the light tinkle of vodka hitting a cocktail glass. I am with cocktails like Humphrey, our dog used to be with the tin opener - passionately enthusiastic. Cheers!

yesterday

The rapeseed's grown a bit...

this morning

early morning

It's just after 6 in the morning and I'm sitting on the sofa wrapped up in an afghan and with a cup of hot coffee. The only noise I can hear are birds. I can pick out the blackbird (his name is Alfred), and the great tits, and the collared doves, the rest I'm not always sure. I think it's the wren chittering away.  Lockdown has done what no amount of alarm clocks or good intentions ever managed and turned me into a morning person. On running days I head out the door and I have the streets nearly to myself.

Tomorrow is a bank holiday and it looks like we will have beautiful weather again for it - so much so that I looked at the weather forecast and decided to take today off as well. It's been sunny, but with a north-easterly wind that is shockingly cold. Today the wind turns and we get some heat with that sun. It's grocery day (the excitement!) and one of our favourite pubs, the Shipwright Arms, are doing a beer take out service today, tomorrow and Saturday to see if it helps keep them floating through this all, so I'll bike up this afternoon for some take away pints of Shipwrecked Ale. I miss pubs so much.

This is the 8th week of being at home, and it's fine. We think a lot about food and spend a lot of time cooking and eating which is lovely. We have the time to spend an hour hand rolling pasta dough into tiny farfalle butterflies, or making sushi. We sit outside and watch the birds - there are fledglings everywhere and they are surprisingly entertaining. Yesterday two fat robin fledglings sat on the fence with the two adults flying back and forth feeding them with meal worms from the feeder. As soon as one worm disappeared the little beak was open again and I swear the adult robin sighed and rolled its eyes :) This week we also saw a kestral right up close on one of our walks - you could see the coral brown of its breast feathers and hear the whoosh as it swept across the field in front of us - amazing.

Work is busy enough - we are working on what our buildings will look like once we start opening up again - euphemistically called "the  new normal" - a phrase which makes my stomach ache slightly. It looks like it will involve a lot of perspex screens and queuing. None of it seems very normal, new or otherwise.

It's almost time to eat some breakfast and saddle up my trusty steed. On grocery day I cycle up to Macknades, our farm shop, but I leave an hour before it opens and go for a quiet bike ride through the countryside first. I barely ever see cars on the lanes, although last week I nearly ran over a chicken that had escaped out of its enclosure so there are still dangers! The hedgerows are full of birds and blossom,  and everything is vibrant and green and noisily alive. The trees meet overhead to make tree tunnels and every now and then you crest a hill and see the morning mist rising on the fields and orchards. I cut back through the field behind the farm shop and by the time I lock up my bike and grab my grocery bags I am tired and happy.

I'll take my phone on my errands today and take some pictures for you x

Still crazy

I thought I was doing OK. Really, I did. A bit frayed around the edges maybe, not entirely sure of which day it is (or, let's face it - month. I'm pretty sure it's still 2020) but more-or-less keeping it together.

However based on my behaviour this morning I think my attempts at sanity may be an illusion. For today I placed an online order for more sewing supplies. Under what delusions am I under? How crazy am I exactly? I even considered buying one of the NHS scrubs kit. Imagine the poor nurse who ended up with scrubs sewn by me. Just when you think your life can't get any harder...!

Don't worry - I did not get the scrubs kit. I may be delusional but I'm not completely mad (yet!)

Where are my peanuts?????

We may have created a monster...

My Trusty Steed

Supply runs have become much easier this week after Neal attached a milk crate to the back of my bike. Between this and a back pack I am managing astonishing loads. Just in time, too - because the new season asparagus is out.

This is week 6, and though it must be admitted that Neal is much better at this than I am, we are both fine. I have swapped the sewing for hand-stitching - there's a textile art group on Facebook doing weekly challenges and so far it's been fun. So far as in I am 4 weeks behind and I have only just started yesterday - but whatever. I kept up with the sewing until I ran out of materials, and it did get marginally better.

In squirrel news, all the squirrels have now worked out the feeder, but the little one chews on the lid anyways because he is a complete and utter bastard. We read that peanuts weren't actually that good for squirrels, and that they liked vegetables, so we tried some broccoli florets and courgette in the hopes of encouraging a better (cheaper!) diet. The squirrels looked surprised, and investigated right away. One took a nibble of broccoli and then hurled it to the ground in what I can only assume was disgust. They all ignored the rest completely, and took turns sitting on the fence, staring meaningfully into the window. We have reverted back to peanuts and peace is restored. We've just hung a new goldfinch feeder up this morning so we'll see what the squirrels make of that! 

Today, on Squirrel News

All squirrels! All day! Which, let's face it, is considerably more upbeat than regular human news at the moment.

Hot and heavy action at the Squirrelmatic 3000. Out of three squirrels, two have assessed the new situation, and through some trial and error, are now accessing peanuts on demand. Or, you know when we put a few out in the morning. We're not Santa. 

The third squirrel, well. This squirrel has spent literally ages trying to lift up the lid he is standing on. We have seen him jump down on the platform and actually lift the lid, but then jump up and resume fighting physics. This squirrel is obsessed with the feeder and will chase the other squirrels away - so he's stupid AND aggressive. He has now resorted to trying to chew his way through. He is an idiot. He could almost be human.

that's entertainment...

Greetings from the garden. Yes, the weather has been beautiful, and under normal circumstances we would be spending quite a lot of time in the Elephant's beer garden. Luckily, we have another (very) local, and the beer is good. Neal has been brewing most weeks now and I can tell you, that man's beer is as good as his bread.

I have been wreaking havoc with tester pots of paint - see the table below. I am now eyeing up the trellis behind the table as there are two pots of frighteningly dubious shades of green left. Why not?

See the box on the fence? This is the Squirrelmatic 3000, built by James and installed earlier this week. It has a hinged lid that the squirrels need to lift in order to get the peanuts. It took them a day or two to figure it out - all except one who is clearly not too bright. It was hilarious watching them work it out. 

We've been barbecuing most days when the weather is nice, but you can see that standards are slipping (or should I say slipper-ing? ha ha - ba dum - I'm here all week! and next week and the week after.....)

We're still permitted a walk or run a day, and it has been glorious. It's strange seeing the sky with no air-planes. It's quiet, and clean, and full of birdsong. On my runs I have the lanes to myself and I pound down the middle of the road with no fears of an errant white van man taking me out as he rounds a turn too quickly.

This is starting to feel almost normal now - we adapt so quickly. I try not to think too much about what happens next - no one knows and I guess we'll just deal with it when it comes. I am however, pining for the pub :( And rehearsals. I miss making music with my friends. But, all-in-all, there are many things to relish in these odd days, and we might as well enjoy what we can. 

Now I'm off to knit more fence doilies (See? Perfectly sane over here! For sure!) 

Happy Easter everyone x

Fence Art

Today I have mostly been crucifying doilies. Well it is almost Easter, after all...

Happy Friday :)

I'm still pleased it's Friday, even though it doesn't change much. It's nice not to work for a few days I suppose. I've been busy this week - we are preparing logistical summaries and proposals both for shutting buildings down and for re-purposing them for NHS and other uses. It's a bit chaotic, but I think it will calm down as decisions are made. One of the main sites is my baby - after the refurb last year I probably know the building better than most, and certainly the teams working from it. Because the council encompasses so many varied work streams there are no blanket procedures for anything, and what affects one team impacts others as well. It's a giant puzzle, and trying to match this with objectives that conflict and change every day is - challenging. But I'm glad to be busy and it feels good to be helpful even just a little bit.

I went to Macknades this afternoon as well - our local farm shop is amazing and they are doing a great job in keeping us all fed and safe. I queued up in our two metre distances outside the door, sharing sheepish grins with the others in the line, and when I got in, was delighted to find eggs AND flour! Happy Friday indeed! Sadly no kalamata olives, which I have been craving or ricotta, which I wanted for the next pasta grannies recipe. These are good problems to have though aren't they? There were still a few people shopping in pairs which was a bit annoying, 2 sets of couples where the woman did the shopping and the men mooned around the shop getting in everyone's way.  Some prices have really gone up but I guess that's to be expected. It felt almost normal, seeing the people we have seen every week for years, the casual exchanges that all have a slight edge to them now - "are you all well?" (seriously - are you? Please? Please be well. Please let it not be that your friend's mom just died and no one can go to see the family or that your husbands business will probably collapse. Please lets pretend our biggest problem is that all of the tinned tomatoes have mysteriously vanished from this sceptred isle). "Yes, yes - we're well," I say, smiling back and really meaning it.

The weather looks beautiful this weekend - sunny and up to 17 on Sunday, and we have spent literally hours this week discussing and salivating over what we will bbq first. I think we've settled on paella, but there's still another day so that may change. One of my favourite moments these days is the morning discussion of what we want to eat for lunch and supper. I mean, even before this, I would often dreamily contemplate the coming day's eating before I even bothered opening my eyes in the morning, so frankly, I've been training and I'm in good shape for this event.

Happy Friday peoples - and Happy Eating! Stay well x

reorganisation

We moved the piano downstairs this afternoon, swapping it for the pile of amps that migrate like lovesick wildebeest into our living room. I don't know what calls them or where they come from - I do know most of them aren't even actually ours, but they seem happy and it's handy to have somewhere to rest a wineglass. The piano has been in Neal's studio/study but he tends to use a different midi keyboard these days and I thought it might be nice to have it handier to play. It's an old electric - basic but decent - I haven't played it in years. I sat down and played a few songs and my brain hurts because I haven't sightread in more than one clef for so long. Hands already aching too - I guess it's really been awhile. Nice though.

I still feel like these things may not be worth it because we'll be back to work soon even though I know that's extremely unlikely. Just can't seem to get to grips with it really. I was supposed to be at a learn-your-bike basics class tonight that I signed up for months ago. It would have been a busy week, with a brass band rehearsal tomorrow, Neal gigging on Wednesday, and a big band concert on Friday. 

Instead, I finally started my "Learn to sew one project at a time" book and I made two cloth napkins. They are not very good. I really can't cut straight and I suspect I wouldn't know a grain line if it bit me in the arse. I think I may hate sewing.

At least the weather is warmer - the wind has dropped a bit and there was a lot of sunshine for our walk today. We walked out to the hop field - felt so good to be out and away in the fields. It's all rapeseed  fields on the way and the sea of yellow flowers is cheering. Still needed a hat but warmer weather will be here soon and that is for sure something to look forward to.

Nettle Tortelli

In a stroke of amazingly good fortune, one of the books we have out from the library (for the foreseeable future!) is the Pasta Grannies recipe book, and it is brilliant. Yesterday we made Nettle Tortelli. We gathered the nettles up on our walk in the afternoon, and Neal made the dough (he is very good with all things dough-y - his bread - well, his bread is going to make me FAT by the time this is all over, put it that way). I mean, look at this - his hands aren't even touching the rolling pin!

They were stuffed with a nettle/ricotta/parmesan filling, then cooked and drenched in butter and more parmesan. Delicious. Today's meal is slow roast beef short ribs. At least there is lots to cook - we are lucky that our local farm shop is well stocked and still open, and that I am still getting paid so we can afford groceries. I know not everyone is that fortunate. 

The wind has turned and is blowing a gale from the north so the temperature has dropped right down. My run this morning was considerably faster on the return leg running south back home! Our clocks went ahead last night so we have one hour less at home today :) I saw a post that really made me laugh - it said, "Don't forget to set your clocks ahead tonight - about 4 months should do it!"  In the meantime, we are fine and finding pleasure in the little things.

wool

So I've been meaning to do this for AGES :)

I was actually quite surprised - I didn't have as much of some things as I thought, and I had A LOT more of others. I've re-categorised and now have a much better idea of what's there, and, more importantly, what I can do with it. And it turns out I don't need a new bookcase to keep everything organised after all - what I have is just fine if it's sorted out nicely. 

Like many people around the globe now, we are pretty much locked down. All non-essential shops are closed, and all pubs and restaurants. We're allowed out for one exercise a day (whether it's cycling, running, or walking), and for food and medicine shopping and that's it. Because of his asthma, Neal is not supposed to leave the house at all for 12 weeks. The weather has been bright and sunny which helps. Today the two robins came to one of the feeders while we were sitting right under it which bodes well for hand feeding as we progress. We were going to wash off the patio today but we decided to save it :)

I'm trying to just take it a day at a time, limit social media and definitely limit the news, and not think too far ahead. It's just too much. These days will be considerably easier if we can enjoy them as best as we can. I did have a nice run this morning - it seems post-apocalyptic anxiety is a great motivator! I also solemnly promise that I will never NEVER complain about going for a run ever again. 

I hope you're all well and keeping your spirits up. This, too, shall pass (as my mother always says x).

hitting home

I returned my season ticket today. For someone who complains as much as I do about commuting, I have found this surprisingly difficult. It is all feeling more real. I was lucky that I could - the way the ticket refunds work means it's only worth refunding them if you are near to the beginning of the time period. Mine started in November, so I basically broke even. I'll get a £400 refund, but more crucially, I won't be paying £600 a month not to ride on trains that aren't there. A bit of a no-brainer, I know, but I still feel disloyal somehow. I didn't realise how much my season ticket meant to me. I realise how crazy that is, don't worry.

To celebrate I then went and stood in a line outside the pharmacy for an hour to pick up Neal's asthma meds. Ha ha. The pharmacy is tiny and they were operating a 4 in at a time policy hence the back up. They did say that paracetamol was coming through though which is good news. They only had one packet so I left it for someone who really needed it, but I feel better knowing I can get some next week (probably).  People are NOT practising social distancing nearly enough and there are packs of teenagers everywhere. It hasn't really hit home yet for a lot of people I think. 

My friend Kate went to Macknades (our local farm shop) with her car and picked up a bag of charcoal for us (just thinking ahead!) so that is another thing to look forward to once the weather starts warming up. And, all my library books from both libraries have been auto-renewed until July! One of the books is the Pasta Grannies cookbook - I highly recommend watching the Pasta Grannies you tube channel - it is about as soothing and wonderful as you can imagine. Tonight we are tackling Selvina's Gnocchi con Salsicce. The first and only time I attempted gnocchi it landed up as a layer of potato glue in the bottom of a saucepan, so hopefully this will be better! Well Neal is making it so I thing you can take that as read :)

Happy Friday x

I think it's Thursday

I also think I'll quit numbering - it may get too depressing.

It's amazing how much rehearsals have bookmarked our lives. Now there aren't any and I feel adrift.

So Neal and I had our own rehearsal this afternoon - guitar and trombone - actually it was really fun. He picked 3 songs to start out with and we figured out the keys and main lines and blocked out a few ideas and it worked well enough to pick 2 more. I was able to collect my bass bone from band earlier this week so I have that and the tenor and between them it's surprisingly versatile.

Maybe if we get a few together we can have a "stay away" gig at the bottom of the driveway...

day 3 - wood lice for the win!

I finally finished my Cowichan-inspired cardigan and I LOVE it. I used a pattern that included blank charts so that you could design your own patterns. I started with a bunch of old Mary Maxim/Buffalo wool patterns that my amazing mother scanned in for me as a base, and then designed from there. The wool is actually the old discontinued Buffalo wool (not, disappointingly, actual buffalo) that Mom scored for me in a building sale in Canada (did I mention amazing? Seriously people - that is love).

I've been fascinated with Cowichan jumpers as long as I can remember. When I was looking for design ideas, I found so many pictures of other people's jumpers that I had taken surreptitiously (and sometimes not-so-surreptitiously) on our trips to Canada. Then a few years ago I read a book that really made me love and respect these sweaters even more - Sylvia Olsen's Working with Wool. Here's the link - https://sononis.com/product/working-with-wool-by-sylvia-olsen/ - go buy it now if you haven't read it - it is amazing. She creates a history of the west coast and colonisation through wool and these sweaters and it was eye opening to say the least. 

There is a history of these sweaters being usurped and stolen, knocked off and the people who make them cheated. I hemmed and hawed for awhile because I did not want to in any way join that brigade. But I am so inspired by them and I wanted to pay homage in a respectful way as well. I hope I managed to stay on the right side of that line but comments welcome as always.

The wool was a PAIN to knit with - 6 strands of unspun cloud fluff that broke as soon as you looked at it. Good luck with pulling snug for colour work, which, I may add, I knit in the traditional way of back and forth so that means stranded purl rows. ARGHHHHH (European stranded knitting like fair isle is almost always knit in the round, so no stranded purling). It was a good thing I was utterly besotted with it from day one or it would have landed up in the rubbish bin almost as quickly.

Can you tell what the creature is? I knit a test to make sure you'd be able to see it, and when I tried it out on a few people, I got responses that ran from "a chameleon" to "whale" and "some sort of fish" but the best was my friend John who looked at the sweater, looked at me, furrowed his brow and tentatively guessed, "Wood louse?"  For the record it is SUPPOSED to be a salmon but I guess it can be whatever you want it to be.

And best of all? It has pockets!

In social isolation news, we walked up to the Shipwright today, the long way, around the marsh. It was sunny and windy and we felt so much better once we hit the fields. We barely saw anyone out there, and we had a pint sitting on the bank watching the tide come up. Neal didn't go into the pub at all (there's even an outside loo) so I don't think it was particularly risky. Who knows how long our pubs will stay open for?  It did us a lot of good. And I'm glad I got out at least once in my swish new cardigan!

Day 2

It was a bright sunny almost-spring day here which has helped enormously as we all try to get to grips with this new life. I'm going to try to stick to a vague schedule so I've just shut off my work laptop and had a trombone practise. I really feel for people who can't make music - I feel so much better after that practise. Neal has made chicken stock and sourdough bread and the house smells like heaven. We even dried laundry outside for the first time this year. I have a furniture delivery for one of my projects tomorrow which looks like it is going ahead albeit without me (sniff). The market was still on in town and there were quite a few people out and about.

I even found quite a few half-used blister packs of paracetamol - hurrah for being disorganised and never putting things away in the same place! My colleagues have been sending photos of empty shelves, and one of their sons has a temperature today which is not good news at all (I haven't seen her in a while so hopefully no cross contamination there but you sure get a feeling for how easy it would be).

I've started a "loose ends" list to refer to if we get bored (!!) and I think I'll start a jigsaw tonight too. I have lots of wool :) We're more fortunate than many people so far as at least one of us is still getting paid (for now anyways). I can't really comprehend what this is going to mean long-term, I don't suppose any of us can.

Stay safe peoples xxxx

day 1 - night 1 - ???

Already time is heading liminal.

We're officially in lockdown now - no non-essential travel, working from home. We weren't this morning, and I went (reluctantly) into London on the train, armed with a pre-defined set of behaviours (don't drink your coffee on the train, don't touch the seat rests or the table, stay as far away from anyone as you conceivably can - in London - tricky, wash your hands IMMEDIATELY). Neal is reasonably severely asthmatic and has a tendency for problems in the lung department when he gets a cold. In the last few days it's been very difficult to know if you are tipping into paranoia or not.  We've settled for just-before xmas levels of stocking up, although we may up that slightly over the next days. I did stock up on the stuff that's easier in London - noodles, cheap scotch from Aldi (I am willing to improvise on toilet paper - but scotch? let's hope our supplies last). I haven't been able to buy any paracetamol which worries me slightly but maybe things will even out as we get used to this new normal.

It's very surreal.

At least we like each other, Neal and I.

oh what a day

It has been one of those only-so-often lovely-from-start-to-finish days - the ones, that when you have them when you're younger, completely distort how you think adulthood will be. That was great, you think when you have a day like this when you're 15. This growing up thing is brilliant.
Years pass.
*tumbleweed*
Gradual slumping into inner existentialism commences.

But not today.

This weekend is the Faversham Literary Festival ( https://www.favershamliteraryfestival.org/ ), which is in its 3rd year. I set a £20 budget, and when Neal decided he didn't fancy anything, I went to town. I only had today, as tomorrow we're flying up to the Highlands for a highly-anticipated visit to Neal's cousin, north of Inverness. I saw 5 talks today, all of which, if not all entirely brilliant, had interesting parts and were well worth the attendance.

It was a day of relaxed connecting - full of ideas, seeing old friends, bumping into loads of Faversham friends, and beautifully ending with an impromptu dinner feast with Helen and James.

And tomorrow - Scotland - and maybe even SNOW!!!!

some things take time

I finally started knitting my Cowichan-inspired jumper. It has been a rather long gestation period. I've had the wool for nearly 4 years. I finished charting the design 18 months ago. I knitted swatches  last year. Today I started knitting, and it feels good. Even when Neal said, off-hand, "I thought you were going to use black."  "I am using black," I retorted. Neal, ever cautious, replied slowly "....it looks quite a lot like navy blue - maybe it's the light?"

It was not the light. I've had this wool for 4 years. I have gazed at it, fondled it, even weighed and measured it, and not once did I notice that I had two cakes of black and one of navy. This is a problem on several counts. For one thing, how on earth did I not see that? I even have new glasses. For another thing, my first impulse was a very strong rejection of the very idea I could be wrong. Even as I simultaneously stared at a suddenly undeniably navy blue skein of wool. 

What do you want to be? A colour blind, intransigent knitter, said no one ever. Worrying.

I just got back from a yoga class, held, amusingly, in St Jude's - the patron saint of lost causes. I was just trying it out to see if I liked it or not. The friend who recommended it said it was like going to therapy. I could probably use that, I thought. I really did try to like it. I would love to be the sort of person who likes a class like this. Alas it appears I am not that person. The woman who ran it was lovely, and had a very melodious voice (in the first relaxation I swear to god someone was snoring which was slightly off-putting but I guess they were just very ....relaxed). But as the class continued, she kept saying things like "you are pure light" and I kept thinking things like "well no not really". She'd say, "what is your heart telling you?" and I would think "hmm possibly angina?" And worst of all, in the final relaxation, I had to stifle a terrible urge to shriek with laughter - it kept bubbling up -  I think it was just the sheer earnestness of it all. I didn't laugh, thank goodness (oh but it was a close call).

I guess I'll have to find my therapy elsewhere.

and sometimes the universe rewards us (or rather coincidences align)

I had a site meeting this morning so couldn't go for a run before work ( ah - too bad - 😄 ) but I did come back to work from home after the site visit so I could still get in a run before dark. I was tired. My legs ache. It's the first Friday after the holidays. My site meeting was trying. I did not feel like running. I vocalised this to some length, accompanied by shuffling and sighing. Finally I headed out the door. And the moment - the MOMENT I hit the rec ground, the sun cam streaming through the clouds, lighting up the trees and making even the rec ground construction site look beautiful. Out in the fields it was even better.

Although - I suppose if I hadn't spent so long bemoaning my fate I would have missed some of the sunbeams.  Make of that what you will!