The flock is almost complete........

Nerea's birth sampler

Mum's Fire Screen

The Flock!

The women in my family have all followed a sewing tradition. My mother and her sisters created  beautiful embroideries as family heirlooms. High blood pressure when I was expecting Nerea forced me to relax with needle and thread and Nerea is now an accomplished cross-stitcher too.  Sampler sewing particularly appeals to me as the symbolism calls to my inner historian.  But I have a guilty secret. Started over 20 years ago, I still haven’t  finished “The SHEEP, the partially completed ovines offering a subtle reproach every time I start something new. UNTIL NOW.  FOR I AM COMMITTED TO FINISHING IT 

Did I tell you I love our log stove?

Molly loves it too. (Ignore the empty shelves and bare plaster, please)

In times of austerity, it’s the simple pleasures in life that make a difference.  This winter, it’s been a joy to indulge in the warm luxury of our log stove.  Although I’m the self-appointed  fire lighter, Andy knows how much I love coming home to a glowing fire so if l’ve been working late , he’ll make magic,  creating a cosy and welcoming  living room  for my return. I can usually tell if the flames are dancing before I reach the garden gate, as the tell-tale fragrance of wood smoke assaults my nostrils as I cycle along the back lane       

Carrock Fell

It was a snowy summit that greeted us at the top of Carrock Fell.   Our original plans had been to go up Rossett Ghyll in search of The Packwoman’s Grave but as we headed south, it was evident that  the wintery weather scheduled for tomorrow was on its way to Cumbria rather earlier.  We headed instead for the Caldbeck Fells and one of our favourite walks up Carrock.  Robin and Cathryn hadn’t been subjected to the thigh burning ascent from the road before.  But the effort was worth it as they found the geocache hidden near the Iron Age fort

Only 79 days to Easter........

There’s something disconcerting about stumbling across Easter Egg displays when our Christmas decoration boxes are still in the dining room, waiting to be put away in the under-stairs cupboard.  My pathetic excuse for that is that we resolutely keep the 12th night tradition so we’re still within the acceptable window for returning them from whence they came.  But  our personal, dilatory attitude to closing down Christmas still doesn't excuse a head- long consumerist scramble merely days after the recent festive fervour finished, towards the next religious celebration that’s been overtaken by secular excess.    Now, where are the Hot Cross Buns?

Shopping at its worst

I’m no shopper but I agreed to take Nerea to the Trafford Centre the day before her  flight back to Spain.  I was traumatised in the vast, artificial wilderness.  The frenetic exchange of money, saved or borrowed, for material possessions essential for happiness, left an unpalatable taste in my mouth.  After fighting our way through unseeing crowds to buy the shoes we’d gone to purchase, Nerea and I were glad of a coffee respite.  The obvious need for instant gratification was palpable, the bustling, pseudo New Orleans Street, accurately mirroring the superficial facade of many aspects of our daily  lives

A daughter is the happy memories of the past, the joyful moments of the present, and the hope and promise of the future

Alas, the Christmas holidays went all too quickly and it seemed like no time before we were back at the airport saying “farewell” to Nerea.  Inevitably, we both shed a few years but we had to “man up” and at the risk of appearing clichéd, remember the “Love is …..putting on a smiley face” cartoon.  Because it’s all about letting go!  And it’s hard.  I never appreciated how difficult it could be for a parent until I had Nerea….and although that’s how it should be, it’s a bitter-sweet experience of pride in her youthful  independence intermingled with sadness and loss

Happy New Year

I like beginnings.  It’s an opportunity to draw a line under the frustrations and failures of the past and start anew with hope and anticipation.  I suppose that‘s why so many of us like new notebooks, diaries and make New Year resolutions.  But the secret is in keeping optimistic once the initial novelty has worn off.  If I knew a fail-safe solution to that challenge, I’d be a rich woman.  But I don’t and I’m not.  But, I have a cunning plan.  I've decided to try something different  each month alongside my unexciting resolutions as a way of maintaining enthusiasm