I think it's hard

to know what to write in these days. The news is bleak and it is easy to feel small and lost and guilty for continuing to live your life. And the worry-worry-worry of what might happen next keeps building. 

You already know this, but it is okay to feel all of those things and still get up to make the dinner, go to work, complain about towels left on the floor, feed the pets, tend the garden, buy the groceries, change the bed sheets. 

You already know this, but it is okay not to have a hot take on what's happening, or to be absolutely up to the minute on the evolution of dictators, or to have single-handedly arranged a donations drive and hired the van and driven it across borders. It is okay to not know how to respond to yet another news story, it is okay to feel overwhelmed. 

You already know this, but it is okay to make plans to meet with friends next week or for holidays next month or only for the next day because that's as far ahead as you can see right now, beyond that seems too black and menacing for plans. 

You can feel compassion and anger and fear about what is happening, whilst at the same time be consumed by the minutiae of your life, the thousands of ways your days play out. The threads that run through your life like a mycorrhizal network, connecting you to the ones you love. This network that you have created, carefully tended and that nourishes your life. 

There is space inside you for all of that. That is what makes this giant experiment called humanity what it is. 

Things I will do while I can still do them:

• cook, eat, repeat
• read, sleep, repeat
• support N and the Kid
• meet up with friends
• make bunting for the wedding
• plan a trip to see more friends
• choose my news sources wisely
• tend the allotment
• decorate the Retreat
• write, work, repeat
• fret, worry, feel guilty, repeat
• donate, donate, donate

"I am washing my face before bed

while a country is on fire. 

It feels dumb to wash my face and 

dumb not to. 

Someone has always clinked a

cocktail glass in one hemisphere as

someone loses a home in another, 

while someone falls in love in the 

same apartment building where

someone grieves. The fact that 

suffering, mundanity and beauty

coincide is unbearable and 

remarkable."

Mari Andrew

January Blathering

 A truly wondrous thing happened yesterday…brace yourselves…we opened the attic hatch!

I know. Extremely brave of us. And I say ‘us’ loosely because it was just N up the ladder. I don’t do ladders. 

Anyway, when we brought the house back in 2019, we’d been completely stymied about how to open the hatch (don’t laugh). Then my neighbour had given dire warnings about the depth of the insulation and how he’d had to have it boarded over before he could use it. So we pretended it didn’t exist until this year when I had a small, totally reasonable, meltdown about how much I hated tripping over the boxes of Christmas decorations in July and other assorted detritus of life that were better placed in an attic out of sight and reach of toes. 

This then prompted an overdue January clear out of things upstairs. So many things that a black bin back was required for the first time in about a year (I really do try to keep our general rubbish levels down). Do you do a Big January Clearout? It's incredibly cathartic, almost a meditative act if you don't go at it like a bull in a china shop, which only results in more, broken, stuff being thrown away. 

Tiny Wee Mabel giving the world her best side-eye as she's

cross about the cold turn the weather has taken

I'm no Marie Kondo (gods forbid) but I do like the process of opening a corner/cupboard/drawer/box and working through the contents one by one. Looking at them and recognising that, if they've been in there 5 years and never looked at, it's time for them to go. In my case yesterday, that was scraps of fabric, a box of rusty pins, varying lengths and tangles of embroidery threads, remnants of wool not long enough to make anything with, wrapping paper that was too creased and crumped and sellotape-marked to reuse, broken buttons and knitting needles, and other random items that I'd once thought would have a purpose but turned out not to have. 

Where once there was an overspill of chaos and failed projects, there is now a contained order in labelled boxes on neat and clean shelves. It won't last but while it does, I go and stand in front of them every now and then just to appreciate the scene. 

It's representative of the more ordered me I like to tap into every now and then. She doesn't make an appearance very often. 

Just a happy Boo in his box. 

Also on the agenda at the weekend was a visit to the wedding venue. After a false start with a place that looked enchantingly like an Ewok village but had no wheelchair access or facilities beyond some basic toilets, we finally hit upon a place that has enough of a Wild Place look about it for us to be happy. 

As you can be sure there will be a lot more of that in the months to come, I'll leave it for the time being. Once we've got the Great Guest List Row out of the way. 

Last night I started crocheting myself a hat. I've been at a bit of a loose crafty end since finishing the last Attic 24 CAL in time for my Mum's birthday back in December. I've taken the time to do some repairs (pockets in jeans, buttons on shirts etc) but my next crochet project (which I can't mention here in case they read about it) won't start for another couple of weeks. I'm not doing the CAL this year as I feel I need to use up the wool I already have rather than buy another big bag of more. 

Glowering skies over the allotment

Plus my ears were really really cold when we were doing root cuttings at college last week. A fascinating process and I'm really hoping the phlox I used actually take. The soft-wood cuttings we did a few weeks back did very well until they did too well and I didn't pot them on in time, so they died. The leaf cuttings are just sitting there as if to say "What?", practically shrugging at me. I love the process of taking cuttings but I'm not convinced the plants are so keen. 

Anyway, my ears were cold and I don't have a hat, so I'm making myself one out of fetching dark red wool that's quite fluffy and has a wee bit of sparkle in it. I was given the wool years ago, so it's nice to finally have a purpose for it. 

In other news, I'm unofficially doing Dry January, alcohol being one of those inflammatory things that I'm trying to avoid, as well as Buy Nothing January, which is not something being marketed far and wide as A Thing, but the result of noticing that, really, I have everything I need, so why buy more? Honestly, I'm feeling very virtuous and smug about it all. Veering dangerously onto the path of Puritanism? Nah. Too many rules. Just an attempt to live more lightly on the planet. 

Took a walk in the park and successfully identified a 

Prunus serrula (Tibetan Cherry) by it's bark. 

I signed up for the George Saunders newsletter. Heard of him? He wrote one of my favourite books, Lincoln in the Bardo, a few years back and I've got his latest, A Swim in the Pond in the Rain, on order at the library. He releases an e-newsletter every week or so (if you're on the free list, which I am) and he set an intriguing writing exercise yesterday, involving a word and time limit. I may try it later this week. 

On the subject of books, I read John le Carre's Call for the Dead yesterday, which was slim but excellent. It's interesting that as uninterested in the Cold War as I am, he can still draw me in and I'm a little in love with the shambling Smiley. And I'm also ploughing through Pandora's Jar, despite not being particularly interested in Greek mythology. But Natalie Haynes is a chatty writer and entertaining to boot, so it doesn't feel like a slog. 

And here I shall leave you to return to some proper work. As much as I enjoy letting free a long stream of blather, there are things to attend to. As we plunge into the dark and rainy second week of January, I wish you all a good one. Hope it's full of warming meals, warming fires and warm toes. I'm off to throw a jacket potato in the oven. 

Ditto this Cornus alba 'Sibirica'. 

A little change here, a big change there...

To everyone who has been within conversational reach of me recently, and there’s not been that many thanks to lockdown, the following will not come as a surprise. 

I stopped liking my job last year.

And in that, I'm not alone. The pandemic has affected people's attitudes to their work worldwide: the pressure of working, often the only person left as everyone else was furloughed, balancing the needs of the museum with the safety of the volunteers and team just became overwhelming and triggered a minor breakdown. 

When that happened, it also triggered a small epiphany: the only thing that gave me any sense of satisfaction was working outside with plants and nature. The allotment became everything and, rather than fading as life attempted a return to normal, that remained constant. 

I tried changing my hours, throwing myself into new projects, delegating more, but nothing worked. It wasn't satisfying and I was frustrated by the lack of flexibility that came with being tied to one building, 4 days a week, 9 till 5. I knew I wanted a career change, I knew I wanted to work outside and I knew I wanted fulfilment. 

In short, I wanted to work with plants and the only thing that held me back was my lack of knowledge. That and my lack of time. 

So I've reached a turning point in my path. A crossroads, if you must. I could continue with my salaried job and a gnawing sense of time wasted, or I could forge my own way, accept instability and welcome the flexibility to learn something completely new. 

 

It might not surprise you to know that I've chosen the latter. As from April, I will be a freelance museum consultant, entirely dependent on my own ability to charm people into giving me work but also entirely free to start training and getting some experience in the plant world. 

And, heavens help me, am I terrified! I've never done this before. Never freelanced, never charmed outside of an interview, never faced a new venture without knowing where my income is coming from. This is scary stuff but I'm ready for it. 

 I think. 

It does mean that my grand plans for the allotment are on hold. This year it will be more about ticking over, planting and digging rather than constructing elaborate fruit cages, buying trees or even getting my shed. Oh my shed! I stand on the plot and dream of it, painted blue with yellow door (not looking at all like an IKEA, no matter what my friend says), a shelf for potting, hooks for hanging tools and a wheelbarrow (also currently existing only in my head) resting neatly on the side. 

I've promised myself that for every job I get, I'll put 10% aside for shed, shed-related purchases and general pursuing of dream plant-based job. 

All that's left to do now is hustle some work my way. 

If you are feeling particularly generous or flush, and you'd like to see the shed manifest itself, there's now a Ko-fi link at the top of the blog page where you can click through and donate. But no pressure, no expectation, just undying gratitude to anyone who wanders that way..

Wish me luck!

There's a whole world of shed love on Pinterest - most of them compeltely unrealistic

I almost wanted to change my search terms to "normal sheds" or "working sheds"

Still, how nice would they be on the plot?

Sigh

Right then

Here is a small piece of good news for today because, just, fucking hell. 

https://www.theguardian.com/environment/2019/dec/13/harvest-mice-found-thriving-15-years-after-reintroduction-efforts

In other news, I considering starting a Kickstarter to fund my fledgling sheep farm in rural Scotland/Norway but for now, I'm going to go pet my cats and hug my boyfriend tight. I know all things pass but right now, just, fucking hell...

Moving, if not necessarily, grooving

Just recently, my once daily yoga has taken a hit and, in truth, it's difficult in the new house to find a space to do it in. This is likely to continue as the boyfriend sees things like "putting-stuff-in-attic" as long term projects (don't ask, I've been through this argument from all directions; it's a cul-de-sac), so the little 3rd bedroom is stuffed to bursting and my anticipated yoga space simply isn't there. 

Although I'm back in a structured class setting once a week, it doesn't feel like enough to keep me sane, and booking more than one a week is not something I really want to do as I have an issue with taking orders. Ever wondered what that sotto voce noise is from the back of an exercise class? That's me, muttering through gritted teeth: "you bloody well hold the pose for 4 breaths then."  

I've felt the need to move more since moving. Get the blood flowing and my muscles feeling flexible, not rigid and complaining. Or, not so complaining as they could be. So I have returned to swimming. Loved my birthday swim so much that I took the plunge (I'll get me coat) and signed on several dotted lines to join a local gym with a pool, albeit a small pool. 4 people in there and we're ducking around each other. Luckily, as I go before work, there's usually only one other woman in there who relentlessly swims backstroke accompanied by much splashing. 

And me, head just above water, doing my own, inelegant, version of an extended doggy paddle. Don't care. Love it.

And now, for a round up of good things that have made me happy!

1. A waste-free world in a disused Centre Parks? Best. Conversion. Ever.

2. The rise again of the Doc Marten boot. God, I loved these when I was a teenager and now they do a vegan range, I'm tempted again...

3. Maya Angelou wrote cookbooks? These I need to find. Also, isn't the image accompanying the article just wonderful? Wish I'd been at that dinner party.

4. This inspiring and moving story of Esiah and his seeds.

5. From roadside verge to wildflower meadow, a new scheme in Norfolk. 

6. Absolutely, absolutely gorgeous stained glass art.

7. I don't know what it was, but something about these photos brought a lump to my throat. My Northern roots, I guess. 

8. Some rewilding news from grouse estates in Scotland. About bloody time.  

And yes, I do know what's happening in the news. No, I can't bear it. Yes, I am refusing to talk about it here. No, I won't tell you what to think. Yes, it is all a shit show.  Spread love where you can.

Things I have learned recently

I started (and abandoned due to lack of time) a post last week after recovering from a bit of minor surgery that was to remove some pre-cancerous cells from my cervix. As the letter from the doctors said, "this is not cancer, but has the potential, if left, to turn into cancer." 

That was a less reassuring statement than I think they meant it to be.

 The boyfriend strimming away with an expression of fierce concentration, 

seconds before the strimmer wire ran out and we admitted defeat.   

 Must say that, damn, they worked fast. Not only in the treatment but in keeping the gaps between letters and treatment short. The speed they work at reassures me: within 4 weeks, I'm back in the coloscopy room. Within 30 minutes, I'm back in the car, pre-cancerous cell-less, asking the boyfriend if he wants pasta for tea.

For all the moaning that this city's hospital gets, I've never had anything but positive (if they can be called that) experiences with them. Although management not letting the nurses park on site (we were gossiping during procedures) is frankly outrageous, and I hope each and every one of the management who are allowed to, stub their toes on the way to their cars.  

 

The bramble mountain. There are wallflowers there too. 

One day I'll explain my wallflower intolerance. 

Spent some time on the allotment this week. One of the beds that we'd covered in membrane had finally given up and was living-weed-free, so we cleared the dead stuff, strimmed the paths and wilder areas, tacked down membrane that had worked it's way loose and hacked back at the brambles that resembled triffids (after I'd raided them for blackberries, obviously). Found what looks to be asparagus gone wild, albeit asparagus with it's own beetles. 

Little wee red and black beetles copulating freely with nary a care in the world for my

 asparagus. Little buggers.  

 

Those blackberries may be the only crop we get from the allotment this year: the ground underneath the dead weeds is so hard and compacted that it broke the fork. And then the spade. Hopefully the deluge of rain that's promised for tomorrow may actually soften the ground enough for us to do something with it. 

Met the allotment neighbour - an earnest young man with a small baby and 2 allotments. He's clearly going down the self-sufficiency route, which I once considered, having fancied myself as something of a Barbara Goode. Truth (and experience) is, I'm more of a Margot Leadbetter. And I cannot warm to hens.

 

Said bent fork. Useful for picking up brambles that you've cut down. Sod all use for anything else. 

 

So the message to take away from this post is:

a) never skimp on your garden tools - a bent fork is use to neither man nor beast
b) always have your smear test
c) always know your own body and have the courage to say when something ain't right
d) don't let your boyfriend see the "What Symptoms To Watch Out For Post-Surgery" letter because he'll then use it as a running gag for the next few weeks
e) spend a really uncomfortable night sleeping on a deflated airbed the weekend before so that, honestly, the procedure was a doddle compared to waking up at 5am after a heavy night and trying to stand up in a 2 man tent. 

I am not, and never will be, a happy camper. Although the marshmallows toasted on the open fire were almost worth it. The first sip of coffee in the morning after? Definitely worth it. 

You can't see them, but there are people there too. Taken before the great marshmallow rush.

But here are a few things that have made me happy this week:

• sea eagles are making a return to the Isle of Wight 
• the wild tiger population is finally rising
• the amazing pink seesaws
• this twitter campaign
• the museum I work for finally getting it's National Lottery Heritage Fund grant after 2 years of work, research, bid writing and trying to find match-funding
• finally starting to learn Spanish thanks to the Language Zen app. Been meaning to for years, can't see any reason for delaying it
• late, so late, to the Community party but loving it
• Medieval marginalia, a small obsession of mine, on Instagram. No, that's not me. This is me.
• My epic Saturday night Scrabble win

 Yeah, that's me on the left. I lost the next night, so we're all good.