tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-299051912024-03-08T02:30:18.754+00:00journeyingadventures in real LifeRoseshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07469442580348062913noreply@blogger.comBlogger813125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29905191.post-7630305446538773672019-08-25T08:43:00.001+01:002019-08-25T08:51:05.858+01:00Bank Holiday Sunday<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Dear Dave</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I woke up today with Philip Glass' Metamorphosis in my head. It's apt really as it was part of the music chosen for your service and you always celebrated our anniversary over this weekend. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Eight years ago, we met in that car park in Holt. If I had written what my perfect first date would have looked like, you managed to tick every freaking box without even meaning to: steam trains, good coffee, literary bollocks, walk on along Sheringham beach eating ice-cream, supper at Byfords where we needed double bowls of olives, and for dessert you had mango & passionfruit pavlova and asked for two spoons. When we'd been given menus and you looked at me and laughed when you handed over your reading glasses, I realised I really was getting older. We went back to Voewood and enjoyed the live music. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">My memory being what it is now, I think it was when Sam Amidon and Beth Orton played. Beth Orton in a parka with a cup of tea; it was such a good gig. The problem is, the memories flow into each other. Was that the same year at Voewood when we poggoed next to David Gilmore and his wife, Polly Samson? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Or was that the year when Hendricks sponsored the event? Does it really matter to have things all lined up properly? The Hendricks year, I know was when I took my most favourite picture of you. We'd been lying on the grass in the sunshine watching the Marketing Director of Hendricks chase after his pet chicken Henrietta. Gods that was such fun. That weekend, I learnt to like gin. Helped enormously by the session we went to: Gin - a tipple through literature. You were driving, which was just as well. The session was supposed to be 45 minutes, it went on for a rather hilarious hour and a half and included Henrietta the chicken settling on the chief mixologist's trolley, singing the Song of her People until she was picked up and taken away. Gods, I was pickled. Actually, so was everyone else. They'd brought around examples of all of the gin mixtures/cocktails that they talked about during the session. I chose F. Scott Fitzgerald as my sobriety test. I failed it miserably. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We rubbed shoulders with people who if they weren't the movers and shakers of the creative world, certainly looked like they should have been. You chatted awhile with this little old lady and came away with the weirdest expression. When I asked you, you said "I think that was Margaret Atwood." I did have to stop you launching yourself at Rowan Coleman, the former editor of the Erotic Review. And you helped make David Gilmour warm to the idea of taking a picture with me. None of these people will remember you now, fleeting encounters with a fan boy. They won't know what they've missed out on. How wonderful you were, your quiet contributions to science, to the music and coffee scenes in Norwich.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I didn't miss out. Oh. Hell. No. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">On an aside, Zoƫ included ears of wheat that grew in the garden from the chickens' food, to dress your coffin. It marked your contribution to the selenium study you were so proud of. Birgit, your ex-long-time partner, appreciated that touch when I told her about it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">How am I doing? Good question. I seem to have got over the pre-Dave phase I've gone through. I'd been living life like I did before I met you. Re-visiting old patterns of behaviour to re-discover why I'd left them behind.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">As you aren't here, I won't be able to stop smoking like I did when I had your support. I am now pre-rolling my cigarettes and I will follow Henry's example and cut down a fag at a time. My lungs clearly do not have the patience to put up with my bullshit, and I really don't need COPD or lung cancer in my Life. I have things to do. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The Grant of Probate came through. Thus begins the dismantling of your Life before we sell your home. I have people to call on to help me with this monumental task. It's one of those things that my pride says "it's only pain, you know you can do it. Get on with it." My heart replies "I have nothing to prove to anyone, there are no gold stars waiting for me by doing this alone and pretending to be big and brave." I'm taking things a half a day at a time. I can cope with that, just about.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Oh. The Words are coming back. Driving back from work a poem came to me. I rushed home and wrote it down on the back of an envelope. I'm not sure it's one to share. Until I sit down with it I won't know, and in truth, it doesn't really matter. I'm still at the stage where one out of twenty poems is reasonable. I'm still writing the crap out. It is good to write again. It's the piece that's been missing from me for three and a half years. Arting can't replace them. They have to learn to co-exist. It's going to be an interesting time as I try and figure things out. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I have decisions to make in the coming twelve months. The thing is, I won't be able to make the decisions until I take the steps. Until then, I can only run them through as simulations in my imagination as I try to find the best fit. The first step will be me filling out an application. Ahead of this I'm trying to gather together the disparate pieces of my brain; I'm currently working my way through an idiot's guide to critical thinking to start herding my thinking into more of a coherent process. My ability to assimilate and analyse information remains woefully poor. I deal with my frustration by reminding myself that the brain is like a muscle that hasn't exercised in quite some time. Getting back to a more intellectual mind-frame will take some time and I might as well get on with it now, than leave it to atrophy. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Anyway, I'm in charge of the Fort this weekend. I've got chickens and cats to feed.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I am consciously sitting in the middle of the bench in the garden, instead of to the left as you won't be coming out to join me. Is this progress? I have no idea. I miss you.</span><br />
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<br />Roseshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07469442580348062913noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29905191.post-21774761362035309122019-08-11T11:24:00.001+01:002019-08-11T16:47:30.800+01:00Dear Dave,<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">You left me that Sunday morning in May. It feels like several lifetimes ago. You did it in your usual spectacular fashion and my last memories of you are our laughing together and our last gentle kisses. How thoroughly you've broken my heart.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I miss you every day. So many memories of you everywhere I look. I still think of you in the present tense and I can't take your defunct mobile number off my mobile phone. It took me three months to move your ashes from my bedside to the wardrobe. I sleep on my side of the bed with an arm stretched out to your pillow in the hopes I will one day again feel you there. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The day after your funeral, where every memory of you was a stab to my heart, I promised myself that I would never shy away from you. I will not turn into one of those widows who can't bear to speak their lost one's names. Loving you was the best, most important thing that happened to me, outside of Rowan's birth. I will find a way to hold the pain of missing you and the eight years we had together. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Life without you goes on. The sun rises and sets. I miss you. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I'm trying to figure out who I am without you and it's not coming easily to me. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I'm smoking again. Sorry about that. It stops me from running around the garden, naked and screaming. I hope my lungs have the capacity to hold on while I heal. I know, I know. I'm still laughing at your admission that had I not stopped smoking, you weren't sure you could keep seeing me: I smelt too much like your dad! I loved you for telling me well after the event. One of your many gifts to me: giving me the space to sort my shit out.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I'm working two days a week now. It's a bit of structure and money as I try to get my act together. It's reception again at St Stephen's and it's fun. I'm still not able to go into the studio and do anything remotely creative. Today, I'll tidy everything up and see what I can do. I'm not going to force anything, healing will take time. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I went to Trinidad for a couple of weeks. It was well overdue and being home, where you never went, was a welcome bit of space from my grief. Of course I still missed you, but I was able to be me, with people who understood. Who didn't judge my complete inability to function. The problem is it made me want to run away, to leave everything I've built here to run home. A piece of good advice I was given: never make life-changing decisions in the first year of a bereavement. I'm holding that thought. I should not have stayed away for nine years from Trinidad, from my family, from the people who I love there. I recognise why I did and it's okay. I just won't leave it so long. In fact, I've already promised to return next summer. I'm going to keep that promise.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I'm 49 and I look ahead and wonder what the next (hopefully) 40 years of my Life will be like. Will I love again? Will I get my dreams of World Domination into reality? Will I create a fulfilling Life without you? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">At the moment, I warn people that What they See is What they Get. My filters aren't working, the Editor in My Head has gone off to parts unknown. It means I have to own what I'm feeling and social niceties have gone out the window. I simply don't have it in me to be "polite", to make chit chat, small talk. Having said that, I do everything I can to be kind, it's not an excuse to take my pain out on other people. It does mean I change my mind, my feelings change with the wind and I can't commit to anything. No instant decisions for me at the moment. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">You left me a better, more full woman than when you found me. I will try to continue being so, even if it is excruciating some days and I attempt to keep my tantrums to myself. Life isn't fair and the Gods know I did my absolute best to appreciate you while you were here. It's strange, the quirks of your personality that could make me grind my teeth in frustration are the ones I miss the most. Your stubbornness...damn I miss you being a pain in my arse. Rowan misses your cough around the house. I miss you, damn it. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Life is for living. There's so much love and joy in the world. Friendship and love. I'm blessed. Every day I am grateful. Grateful for the time we had together, especially. Grateful for the beautiful home where I live. My scruffy garden. Your family. My family. My friends all over the world who take time to say they love me in so many ways. My reality, my little bubble of existence is blessed. Even if I can no longer rest my head on your chest. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Love,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Rosemarie</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">PS. Blogger is being a right arse, I'm simply not able to respond to your comments. My apologies.</span></div>
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Roseshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07469442580348062913noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29905191.post-87709814722378398192019-03-03T12:37:00.003+00:002019-03-04T21:07:10.523+00:00Hello from Me at March 2019<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I've been struggling to find the words to describe my Life since December 2018 to now. In and amongst the tough bits, there have been the moments of joy, creativity and laughter. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"Challenging" I associate with getting fit or training for a 5K run, at the end of it, there's a feeling of accomplishment despite the effort, the sweat and sore muscles. Cancer isn't a challenge. "Hard" and "tough", the words do start to convey the grind of our day to day living. Is there enough space within the definitions for the sleepless nights, the helplessness, the sorrow, my shoulders locked around my ears, the peri-menopause and my uterus giving me a good kicking when I'm already on the floor, curled up?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Within "hard" and "tough" there's the almost overwhelming senses of horror, disbelief and frustration at the political mess in this country that's been the waste of time and resources of Brexit, coupled with the loss our wonderful NHS. The system as it is, seems to continue through the sacrifice of the good women and men working to heal with in the travesty of the service provided now. I'm often told by hard core Brexiters that I should wait and see, it will be wonderful. Forgive me; my partner's four-year fight with Stage 4 metastatic cancer has pretty much beaten out my optimism. In my reality, Santa and the Easter Bunny seem to have ridden off on a unicorn. Yet I still pray for the strength to search for the rainbows as the storms pass.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The Universe says 'yes' to me and my art and I am too exhausted to follow through the opportunities that turn up like buses. As I let each one go, I recognise my fear that there won't ever be another one, that I'll be waiting on the side of the road. I sternly tell myself that I didn't know there were buses to begin with, therefore they will continue to run. They will just be different buses, perhaps not so comfortable, perhaps packed with other commuters.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I will not offload this cheerless bit of writing without balancing it with the support that's around me, around us. Facebook provides an endless supply of bad jokes, cute kitty pictures and arguments if I've got the energy to debate. It also lets me receive messages of love and support in the middle of the night. It's kind of weird to think that people hold us in their hearts and reach out during their days and nights. They hold my hands during appointments, give me virtual cuddles when needed and a kick up the bum if the Self-Pity Gnome over-stays her welcome. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Blogger is being an arse. I can't respond to your comments. I don't know why it's being an arse, it just is. Thank you darlings, much love back to you. I really appreciate you taking the time to respond to me. xxx</span>Roseshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07469442580348062913noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29905191.post-65179193844071489722018-11-11T16:50:00.000+00:002018-11-11T16:50:09.356+00:00Life Post-Exhibition<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Hey, did you hear? I had an exhibition! No really, I did! It was an amazing experience.</span><div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">From the end of August to the end of the exhibition on the 27th October, my head was down and I prioritised like an army general. I had to put to one side anything that didn't directly have anything to do with Dave and/or the exhibition in an effort to get everything ready in time. To say I had blinkers on would be an understatement, to the point where all I could see was the small light at the end of the tunnel that was the exhibition.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And after? Well, darlings I had been warned that I would crash and burn and I'm grateful to those who shared their post-exhibition experiences with me. I would have been seriously worried otherwise. The first week after the end, I managed to put my onesie on and brush my teeth. Outside of that, nothing much else happened. I didn't help that the day after the Private View, Dave had cycle 5 of his chemotherapy. Dealing with either the exhibition or Dave's chemo would be hard enough; together...yeah...I had to pull energetic resources from wherever I could find them (though no Red Bull was consumed. That stuff is disgusting). I am deeply grateful for the support I received through this time. People stepped up and took over when I couldn't. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The exhibition was called: The Speed of Colour: an abstract encounter with astrophotography. Chris and I were very lucky to have the exhibition as part of the annual Norwich Science Festival and on Saturday 27th, we did a presentation to a small group about our process and the science behind the work. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Chris sold a piece and quite a few others on the back of the show, I didn't sell anything. In all honesty, I'm not disappointed. I did the exhibition because I wanted to know that I could. I could learn what I needed to know, engage with art and science in a meaningful way and ultimately, that people would consider my work. Which they did. The Private View on the 18th October was very well attended and people really did take the time to check out our work and engage with it and with us.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You will notice I make no mention of "like" or "dislike". The exhibition was about that, it was about getting my audience to take a moment to consider what's out there in the vast universe and the bigger questions that can come out of looking up at the night sky. Some people 'got' my intention, but didn't particularly appreciate the outcome and that was good too. Happily, no one said to my face "my 3 year old can do better than that." I took that away as a win. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Following is my work that was included in the exhibition. Thanks to an amazing brain fart on my part, one of the pieces didn't get framed which I didn't realise until we were at the gallery, hanging paintings. By then, I was too far gone to worry. And truthfully, the work wasn't missed (whoops!).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>On the Surface</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Acrylic on board</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>3ft x 2ft</i></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3QsTSQPmXwu70bZndG3M0NRocu2rKuih7od_GGFuBIdQn734Eudbef-z3Keo7sVS5AgvdZf6DHYlaa_L9uA8p5Vi413xVleaOOuObhFexPEpxE9U2IHhRqHlOv5nHyefFGQ9D/s1600/Starfield.tiff" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="800" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3QsTSQPmXwu70bZndG3M0NRocu2rKuih7od_GGFuBIdQn734Eudbef-z3Keo7sVS5AgvdZf6DHYlaa_L9uA8p5Vi413xVleaOOuObhFexPEpxE9U2IHhRqHlOv5nHyefFGQ9D/s320/Starfield.tiff" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Starfield</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Acrylic on board</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>3ft x 2 ft</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>3am Anywhere</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Oil on board</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>3ft x 2 ft</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Filters</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Oil on board</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>3ft x 2ft</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Continuance</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Acrylic on board</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>3ft x 2ft</i></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLsa4fuBUlgDGQsZKDUiHcV4-kTEj1Fo5yXl3JohTiSYDGBol_s4sQb5GaPlie1Gy2hDKUrNhy4Se5gKR_j6lE8zN8N_Ho623udQPgcPZH5-omzGE2Qop856CyvR8kfXhI3Zab/s1600/Joy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1068" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLsa4fuBUlgDGQsZKDUiHcV4-kTEj1Fo5yXl3JohTiSYDGBol_s4sQb5GaPlie1Gy2hDKUrNhy4Se5gKR_j6lE8zN8N_Ho623udQPgcPZH5-omzGE2Qop856CyvR8kfXhI3Zab/s200/Joy.jpg" width="133" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0dC4E7jXdckj_CxDSOCnbQ_gJtozHnqQaBZbDbjX7Ge4jExOdcA0urT6bQbl5yG6Bvo6ulzqfXHeGz-KLnq4el4Cn2euuSWbUz76Io3SsWaLuQ8MiahmKft9lxYyR8iz-CPfs/s1600/Equinamity.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1056" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0dC4E7jXdckj_CxDSOCnbQ_gJtozHnqQaBZbDbjX7Ge4jExOdcA0urT6bQbl5yG6Bvo6ulzqfXHeGz-KLnq4el4Cn2euuSWbUz76Io3SsWaLuQ8MiahmKft9lxYyR8iz-CPfs/s200/Equinamity.jpg" width="131" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOhgwni2CoQ-GsqA1F_DGfePTwR82EF0HnXXncmvYTZ7RhH5VZMDcQU7NF-OaZ8vOy0KDAQ6FdmCR1Yzpb3WFzQ158G-VMoLR-yj6w5W_odJ9mhetzaiSiUdN8QTR_EhDLyByo/s1600/Despair.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1050" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOhgwni2CoQ-GsqA1F_DGfePTwR82EF0HnXXncmvYTZ7RhH5VZMDcQU7NF-OaZ8vOy0KDAQ6FdmCR1Yzpb3WFzQ158G-VMoLR-yj6w5W_odJ9mhetzaiSiUdN8QTR_EhDLyByo/s200/Despair.jpg" width="131" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Triptych</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Joy. Equanimity. Despair</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Acrylic on Board</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>3 x 2ft x 3ft</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Speed of Colour</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Oil on board</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>3ft x2ft</i></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw6PbbIGHSMoIzr5hQgc9pFo_EKyV29jay-eQJnSV8qYPXwmxIQOK_dqLDVVtNWZvR3rNN2LVEU_4ZUfXb2FvSkUo2fIFiT93fpgyf0qZ5NFqrBGfBnKj4GK7smgMWiJokfXVv/s1600/LetThereBeColour.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1054" data-original-width="1600" height="210" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw6PbbIGHSMoIzr5hQgc9pFo_EKyV29jay-eQJnSV8qYPXwmxIQOK_dqLDVVtNWZvR3rNN2LVEU_4ZUfXb2FvSkUo2fIFiT93fpgyf0qZ5NFqrBGfBnKj4GK7smgMWiJokfXVv/s320/LetThereBeColour.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Let There be Colour</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Oil on board</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>3ft x 2ft</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Private View was an amazing experience. In fact, preparing and doing the exhibition was one of the most challenging, terrifying and exhilarating experiences. I now know I can do it...yes I'm already plotting....</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!</span></div>
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Roseshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07469442580348062913noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29905191.post-29764620048599118062018-08-29T11:50:00.001+01:002018-08-29T11:50:54.790+01:00The Space Between<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkhHiLoynv1Y1si4VWgqDYj_Ls-704cf8ThivDSrz1Id1wPOOvJlcnKJRGblm9kbfdZ6mUjrfXPAziW26QSnUGPArn-Z45uZZltjBTsA85BkJzW5LLmIm6ecX1ukHZyzAL-syR/s1600/IMG_1225.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1076" data-original-width="1600" height="215" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkhHiLoynv1Y1si4VWgqDYj_Ls-704cf8ThivDSrz1Id1wPOOvJlcnKJRGblm9kbfdZ6mUjrfXPAziW26QSnUGPArn-Z45uZZltjBTsA85BkJzW5LLmIm6ecX1ukHZyzAL-syR/s320/IMG_1225.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>The Speed of Colour</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>oil on board, 3ft x 2ft</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I'm in that weird space between the body of work having been finished and the exhibition date. Last Monday evening I crashed and burned. I was exhausted. I can't find the words to tell you how bone tired, ass-dragging knackered I felt. My brain ground to a complete halt. It got to the point where I could only sit on the sofa and drool. Last week, I rested. I'm still not at 75%, but I've got enough juice in the tank to start encouraging my ducks to line up. This week, I don't have high expectations for myself and I'm okay with that. That's what next week is for (fingers crossed).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">My To Do List, pre-exhibition spans two pages and is frankly scaring me to death. Almost as much as the exhibition itself, and that's saying something. Rather than lie on the floor quaking (as I really would like to do), I've broken down all of the tasks into chunks and I'm going to trust that everything will get done and to a good enough standard. Yes, I would like everything to be perfect. Unfortunately, 'perfect' is not within my abilities. 'Good enough' will have to do. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">After I finish this post, I will start writing both the exhibition statement and my artist's statement. Given I've been working on this project for two years, you'd think I'd be all over this like white on rice. Yeah, no.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Rowan asked me last night why am I doing this? What is it I hope to achieve? I stuttered for a long time.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Why am I doing this? It's obvious, isn't it?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Actually, no it isn't.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I'm an artist, because I do the art work. Whether I'm a good, bad or indifferent artist is another question I am not qualified to answer. I'm too close to this body of work to judge it's success or failure or quality.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I do this for the same reason I blog. It's a my way of communicating, I am reaching out beyond my small sphere to offer a glimpse into my reality. I hope to connect with other people who are willing to have a conversation about what comes up in my life, in my thoughts. My blog does this with words, my art does this visually.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">My blog has been a vehicle in which I've explored how it's been to be Me dealing with various challenges, issues, people, situations. My art is taking things a step further. It's an invitation to have a conversation about what it is to be human and look up at the Universe. What do we see?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I believe Life is a paradox. On the one hand it is meaningless. You're born, you live, you die. There are seven billion of us on Earth currently going through this process. The only two certainties in life, often quoted, are death and taxes. If life itself is meaningless, what then? It is up to the individual to create meaning. Therefore everything then becomes full of meaning. The decision to connect, to create, to communicate becomes the starting point of a meaning-full life. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This morning, I realised the work for this exhibition is not going to be good enough; it never was going to be. With this exhibition, I stepped up and stated "this is what it's like to be human, looking up." This is the kind of subject best left to the end of an artistic career, after many, many years of practice, honing of skills, success and failure, trial and error. I've gone and jumped in at the deep end at the beginning of my artistic career. This is Big Picture stuff and who the hell am I to have an opinion about anything?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Who am I? I am an artist. As an artist my job is to start the conversation, to ask the difficult questions. I'm not here to paint pretty pictures. I'm here to highlight the difficult things about being human: the fear, the anger, the hurt, the loneliness; as well as the positive. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I want to contribute to the Big Picture. </span>Roseshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07469442580348062913noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29905191.post-59416204873008356632018-08-18T13:39:00.001+01:002018-08-18T13:42:39.604+01:00Waiting for Paint to Dry<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Yesterday evening, I thought I'd finished the triptych. I kicked back, drank a glass of raspberry beer and contemplated my work. As I contemplated, I realised as much as I like the piece I've done, it doesn't work with the triptych.*sigh*</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Earlier in the week, I had another realisation: </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">while my first love is oil, one of the pieces really did not work in that medium. The acrylic paint I've been using with the triptych gave exactly the effect I wanted. *bangs head on wall*</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Dave and I hit the DIY store for more MDF boards and yesterday I started on that piece of work. Of course it meant emergency buying of yet more art supplies and quite a lot of stressing about varnish to finish the pieces off. Everything I had was geared for oils. I've had to learn about acrylic paint from scratch. It was never a medium I liked. The paints I'd used just weren't up to much.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Ladies and Gentlemen, a piece of unsolicited advice, if I may? If you are thinking of trying out something new in the art and craft world and you're standing in front of a few racks of shelves of materials and you think "I'll get the starter stuff, there's no point in spending a lot of money, if I don't know if I'll like it." STOP. Step away from the cheap supplies. Find someone who uses them, ask them what the middle of the road version is, swallow your uncertainty and buy that stuff. Do. Not. Buy. Cheap. Art. Supplies.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Seriously, don't. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">My experience with cheap-ass acrylic paints was so disappointing, I walked away and never looked back until I had to use a different brand entirely. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Also, just because you see 'that' brand in every other art shop and it gives good bullshit marketing in the blurb, don't believe it. Art materials are not made equally. There are some that are truly dire. Then there are some that are excellent value for the money. You've got to experiment.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Anyway, I'm currently multi-tasking <i>like a boss</i>. I've got a piece varnished and drying, two other pieces drying. All of them are quite large, 3ft x 2ft, cause I deal in old money, as they say here. And yes, before you start, size does matter. In this case bigger is better. No, it's not negotiable. In this case, I'm right. It's my work damn it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">While Dave was driving me towards the DIY shop so I could get more MDF, I realised he's my muse. All artist's go on about their muses, well he's mine. Dave did give me a funny look when I said that to him. Muses inspire, challenge and generally put up with a lot of shit from their artist. Tick, tick and tick.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>Me and my muse!</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Therefore, I roped him in to providing some assistance with the piece I was re-doing....</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>Every journey...</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I've glanced across and I think one painting is ready for more.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Laters darlings.</span>Roseshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07469442580348062913noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29905191.post-59947647034001359932018-08-05T19:53:00.000+01:002018-08-05T19:55:59.210+01:00It's Been Awhile<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I've been busy...I've been arting, chasing chickens and coming to terms with the difficulty of living with Dave's cancer. Since I last blogged and not that long ago, his cancer began progressing which means he's back on the chemotherapy. It's hard people, it's hard. Life is uncertain and has meant I focus pretty much on a week at time now. Planning further than that is harder. Dave is coping with the chemo as best he can, which frankly is like a super-human. Given the level of pain, the effects and side-effects of the treatment, he remains stoic throughout...me, I'd be whinging like I was training for an Olympic sport. When I hurt, everyone knows about it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">In the meantime, in between hospital appointments, travelling for treatments and generally trying to live, I've been working towards my first joint exhibition in October. I find it difficult to write about my art, it's personal and I'm insecure. Now's the time to get over myself. The exhibition is coming up, whether I'm ready or not. I'm working on the last pieces that will form a triptych and will be the centre-piece over the fire place...no pressure then.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Yeah...my exhibition....</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It's called <a href="http://www.anterosfoundation.com/exhibitions" target="_blank">The Speed of Colour</a>: an abstract exploration of astrophotography. I'm doing it with astrophotographer, Chris Grimmer. I had this wacky idea, talked him into it, now I'm reaping what I sow.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I've got three more pieces to do before the work goes off to be framed at the beginning of next month. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This has been a very steep learning curve. I've had to learn as I've done...and I'm still doing...I've gone from planning everything to working intuitively, the results are a bit variable but on the whole I think the work is stronger for it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I'm going to leave you with my latest obsession: lemons.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Earlier this summer I couldn't stop painting and drawing lemons. I did them in as many different mediums as I could...though thinking about it, I didn't do pastels. I'll have to rectify that. Anyway, here they are:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>Roseshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07469442580348062913noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29905191.post-62157858207260417342018-01-10T21:24:00.005+00:002018-01-10T21:24:59.205+00:00Greetings and Salutations from 2018<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I won't start with an apology, give the reasons why I stopped blogging. The words left. Simple as that and I'm not sorry they did. I didn't miss blogging or I would have done it sooner...or would I? I don't know. All I know is that I didn't blog. I'm not entirely sure the words are back, they could be just visiting. Passing through on the way to a better conduit and to have a last hurrah with me before they go on their merry way.</span><div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I like the idea words look for their hosts. There are a lot of words that seem to make do with poor hosts and I suspect I was one of them. I didn't indulge their endless rambling at 3 am, I wasn't quick enough to refill their glasses with wine after dinner. I think I only offered them discount supermarket sherry and port from the discount bin. Such meagre fare indeed.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And yet...and yet here I am. A whim whispered to me and I thought I'd go with it, see if there were more adventures to share, worth sharing.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It's been a busy time. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I am an artist. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Did I tell you this? Oh yes. I'm an artist. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Keep the evening of Thursday 10th October 2018 free. I've got my first exhibition at Anteros Arts in Norwich. I'm working with Chris Grimmer, an astrophotographer. He's showcasing his amazing photographs and I am creating work out and around what he does. Exciting stuff. I'm pretending I'm a snowball rolling down a mountainside, gathering momentum as I go.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It's led to me expanding my horizons somewhat as I'm doing several courses to better understand my subject matter. I did no science for my GCSEs, the lack of which I am feeling every time I step up to my easel. That's okay. I'm best when slightly overwhelmed with lots of stuff to do and learn. October is ages away; I keep telling myself. I've a few more months to go before I'm officially allowed to panic at my lack of paintings.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">See, here's the thing: the painting is the very last thing in the artistic process and for me, if I don't get the process right, it doesn't end well. I'm trying to start well, to mean to go on well, to finish on time with minimal stressing. Bwahahahaha! That's a road to nowhere if ever I've seen one. Yeah, right.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Anyway, in the meantime...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">What I feared most came to pass. Dave's cancer came back and then some. He was accepted on to a ground-breaking treatment trialing two immunotherapy drugs. There was a rigorous selection process and when he began treatment we feared the delay would be costly. Nothing has gone according to Plan. There have been hiccoughs and surprises and detours which have meant I now consider myself an expert on hospital catering. The people around me leaned in and held me up since that awful day in mid-June.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">At the moment, Dave seems to be doing much better. When he does better, I do better. Bad news crushes me, good news sends me soaring. This is a helluva ride. I won't say more than that, it's not about me; which quite frankly, is just as well. I would not be as physically or emotionally strong as Dave. I say to him I hope something like that never happens to me, my friends and loved ones would fight to hold the pillow over my face because I'd be whinging, whimpering and complaining so much. I'd be the most high-maintenance patient ever. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Back at the ranch: in the autumn the pheasants and George the Herring Gull came back to demand breakfast. I've taken a mortgage out to pay for the tons of bird food I go through every month. It's worth it. Yes, I grumble on grey, damp days, or when the wind is blowing an absolute hoolie as it was early last week. I wouldn't be without my creatures. Thanks to a broadened menu, one platter does at least three sittings, starting with George and the pheasants. After they've gone the crows, magpies and blackbirds move in and finally, the partridges, robins and other small birds and a couple of very fat pigeons and a few collared doves come a-munching. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>(I wonder if they take requests?)</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My flock of velociraptors are well, though not particularly happy with me as I'm keeping them mostly in due to the bad weather and the fact that I re-seeded my lawn in November. Happily, it's coming on well.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>From left to right: Polly, Jenga, Canasta and Scrabble</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I spent the summer in the garden freeing it from the clutches of the perennial weeds, planting, plotting and re-arranging. Gardening was my tiny act of rebellion. I created something for the future: colour for the spring. It's hard to be a cynic and garden. When I planted I wasn't thinking of the Present or even next month. I plant for five years' time. It's good to see the bulbs rising to my challenge as they poke through the cold ground. It won't be something a magazine will come to photograph, not if I do it right. I want it to be a scruffy, sensual place to be home for chickens, creatures, cats and creepy crawlies.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>This is Chip</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Speaking of cats, Rummy now has a room mate Chip, which he is not best pleased about. And if Rummy isn't best pleased, Eloise the cat is downright furious at the intrusion of her territory. Let's not forget she is the Queen of All She Surveys and while she might see herself as Rummy's little sister, she'd rather Chip jumped off a cliff. Chip for the most part is fairly pleased with his change of circumstances. There's a lot to see and people to interact with if he fancies it, which he doesn't very much, it has to be said. He's established himself as head honcho and Rummy doesn't seem to mind too much as long as he still gets unfettered access to me. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>Herb planter by the kitchen door</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Artist, gardener, creature lover, mad chicken & cat lady, me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Anything else, I'll let you know.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>Cheers</i></span></div>
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Roseshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07469442580348062913noreply@blogger.com25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29905191.post-7510817630022266652017-04-29T15:14:00.003+01:002017-04-29T15:23:34.645+01:00Sardines & Beer<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The last two weeks have been unbelievably hectic and I'm only now finding the space to sit down and actually relax. Hence being a bit slow to blog about it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">On Wednesday, I decided I'd been big and brave enough by myself and met up with Nicola, my art mentor for some gentle hand holding and reassurance. I'm glad I did. She reminded me of how far I've come, complimented me on the quality of the work, its presentation and my preparation. Perhaps more importantly, we talked about my scheme of work next week and for the next month. It was crucial for me not to get to this weekend and fall flat after the event. It seems I worry and stress unnecessarily. The self-inflicted pressure is counter-productive. May's objective is to lighten up a bit. To take more breaks. To breathe more deeply. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">That probably tells you my state of mind Thursday morning. Poor Dave, I volunteered him to babysit me as I waited for the gallery to open. Happily, I was not first in the queue, I was third. What I am particularly proud of, was the fact I did not gush, I did not do my wet spaniel impression all over everyone involved. I calmly handed over my two pieces of work (the framer had ignored Dave's instructions and I wasn't happy showing the sunflowers in the end) and then Dave and I went on our way so I could complete my preparation for the evening. I needed good nails and two eyebrows stat!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I think I probably over-thought the whole thing as I planned everything down to my outfit. Inspired by Georgia O'Keeffe's iconic style, I made an executive decision and bought a man's suit. I don't have the income to be a fashion plate and I'm not interested enough to do it on a budget. Neither am I retro, vintage or hipster in any form. Classic fashion is beyond me, though I can do it if pressed. I'm too old and cranky to be sexy-chic and I didn't want to present myself as an artist as a sexual being. Don't get me wrong, I am a sexual being, but I don't want it to be part and parcel of my marketing. I'm not interested in flirting for the camera or anyone else for my art. Hence, the suit. I'd read <a href="https://www.thefword.org.uk/2017/01/i-wore-mens-clothes-for-a-month-and-it-changed-my-life/" target="_blank">this article</a> about a woman wearing men's suits for a month and it appealed. A suit would be stylish, classic and comfortable. I talked to Dave about it and boy did we have fun, we went to Moss Bros and got the suit. I did have to get the trousers and the vest adjusted though; with the best will in the world, I'm still a curvy woman trying to fit into clothes that were meant for frames more straight than mine. I found women's double-cuffed shirts online. My neck size is 11.5 inches, men's shirts tend to start at 14 inches and any smaller are for boy's clothes which I'd have never buttoned up. Dave was my valet and did my tie for me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Once dressed, I felt amazing. Power dressing at it's best. I sat and walked differently. And darlings, <i>pockets</i>. Men's tailoring has pockets in so many convenient places, it was just a question of where I put things.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>Letting social media know I was on my way</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Thirteen A is a small gallery. It's more the size of someone's front room than an exhibition space. We were definitely sardines. There were bottles of beer and ice in a large plastic tub in the middle of the room. I had an absolute blast. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The Private View was mainly attended by artists and their friends all crammed into this small space. We spilled outside onto the pavement as well, when it got too packed inside. I got to talk to so many incredibly interesting people. The show was an open submission and yet it worked. The diversity of styles and media meant it should have clashed, it shouldn't have made sense. And yet, it did. The synergy was astonishing. There were oil paintings, lino prints, acrylic paintings, drawings, 3-D pen sculptures and of course my work.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The whole point of the experience for me was to put my intention out into the world. I did what I set out to do. Earlier in the week, I watched an amazing talk by <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UcTYhaA72iY&t=2s&list=WL&index=4" target="_blank">Paul Klein</a> on YouTube, on How to be A Successful Artist. Amongst other things he talked about not the Art World, but Art Villages. He said the challenge artists face is to find their art village, the place where they can call home i.e. the internet, the gallery space, etsy, it's not so much about geography per se, or the base market, but an amalgamation of the two. There's also an expectation that an artist will move around for a while before they find their art village. Thursday night for me was my first exploration into the art village in Norwich. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I very much doubt I will sell my work this weekend, and that's fine. I was pleased to be there. I was after the experience, and I feel I presented myself well. I intend to create an art career that will continue into my dotage. This was the first step. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Yesterday, I went on a day's course on pastels. I had an absolute blast; it turns out I love soft pastels and it's mutual. Please bear in mind I was basically colouring in the tutor's tracing of the reference photograph next to me. But this is what I did. Yeah, I'm beginning to think I've got a good shot at this.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>No biting</i></span></div>
Roseshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07469442580348062913noreply@blogger.com27tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29905191.post-32924171638740174942017-04-21T16:56:00.000+01:002017-04-21T17:08:43.290+01:00Waiting for Paint to Dry<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It's true, I am. I've got a canvas on the go and a board I finished prepping about forty-five minutes ago and I can't go any further with either of them until they dry off a bit. It's okay, I decided to have a break and blog. My blogging habit still hasn't returned and I confess it's making me sad. I miss being here. I'm hoping that the fact I sat down this afternoon is a shift in the words.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This week I've been pretty much flat out. I was so busy I didn't even have time to write a To Do List! Unfortunately while I was busy, it wasn't with art per se. I was trying to get some marketing done. I write that and I feel myself groan and want to slide off the chair. As you know, marketing was how I paid bills until recently. I've always considered myself to be reasonably competent, able to negotiate website creation and updates, e-newsletters, business cards and social media without any issues. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Yeah right. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Let me tell you, doing this stuff for myself, drove me to drink! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I created my website with the help of dearest Wix.com from scratch. At the same time, I updated all my social media accounts and created a Facebook page for my art. I then did my business cards and made and wrote an e-newsletter. All from the comfort of my laptop. <i>What's the problem?</i> I hear you ask. Bearing in mind I am not a details person; instructions go from "<i>turn right at the Post Office, second...</i>" into "<i>blah, blah, blah</i>" within nano-seconds. Having to create the website was a nightmare. Now it's done, I can tell you that Wix do it in as straight-forward and easy manner as possible. I was a little puddle of stressed out goo at the end of the whole process. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Anyway, it's done. I'll pop the links to all that malarky on the bottom of the page. The whole point of all of that stress and work was there's an open submission exhibition next Thursday at a gallery in Norwich that I'll be submitting three pieces of work to! <i><b>*squeaaaaal*</b></i> And breathe, breathe damn it. I've got two pieces of work already framed, the third is actually Dave's picture that he wants me to include. If this canvas goes well, I may swap one of the pictures over. We'll have to see. It's half-way done and I'm not a good judge of my work at this stage. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I'm ridiculously excited by this. Hopefully by next Thursday, I'll have worked through the nervous energy and either be totally exhausted or chilled out so that I'm not bouncing around like a wet spaniel. Bad things tend to happen when I do that.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">In the meantime, I continue to work on the Space project. Chris' work is amazing. He's got such an instinct for a good shot, he's going to totally shine next year. It's me that's the worry. Yesterday, I had a down moment. Everything rests on my ability to bridge the gap between science and art and I stared at an experiment I'd been conducting based on visible light.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Have some science. What we see as light is only a small fraction on the scale of electromagnetic radiation. For photographers and scientists, light is split into seven colours: red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo and violet. Using filters to block frequencies, it's then possible to do all sorts of weird and wonderful things with light - like figure out the composition of astronomical bodies. Artists on the other hand, start with the three primary colours: red, yellow and blue, they then mix the primaries to create secondary and tertiary colours. Eyes see colour because light bounces off the pigment of the object they are looking at, there's also the whole structure of the human eye and receptors, but I'm not going there now. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Why does anyone care? Well, Chris gets the data for his images in black and white. He adds the colours afterwards and the reason he knows what colours to use? Chemistry! He uses filters linked to the building block elements to build up the image! How freaking cool is that?! Science man. Science.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I'm playing with the concept of filters and visible light. I've prepped a board with gesso and a ground to act as a foundation for the work. The board is 3ft x 2ft and is currently the same colour as the Pink Panther. I decided to add a dollop of cadmium red to the gesso to help support the first layer. Putting colours straight on white can limit the effect I'm after. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">So yeah, this is what I've been doing. Oh, as well as doing various art studenty activities to build my skills. One of the things I've been very aware of recently, is that I haven't factored in enough proper breaks in my week to do fun stuff, to recharge my batteries. I've been turning into a boring stress monkey and have been of no fun to anyone. Well, I learn from my mistakes if nothing else. Hopefully, I'll be able to get this layer done before Dave comes over. Then there's raspberry gin to drink with whatever he chooses to feed me with; when he asked about the content of my fridge, I could hear him roll his eyes when I listed the half a sandwich, out of date chicken and milk. He's bringing dinner people! How lucky am I? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Right, love you loads, the board *must* be dry by now!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Oh...my <a href="https://www.rhhblackthorn.com/" target="_blank">shiny new website</a>...and <a href="https://www.facebook.com/Rose-Blackthorn-artist-1487091598027745/" target="_blank">Facebook</a> page. Click the links if you're bored!</span>Roseshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07469442580348062913noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29905191.post-77547270093685562722017-03-30T17:13:00.000+01:002017-03-30T17:48:37.265+01:00I am an artist<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">As I'm still struggling with words, let's do this bullet blogging style. I don't know why the words haven't come back I feel fine in myself, it's simply that I can't write a coherent sentence on here at the moment. I've been deleting drafts all month. Pfft. Whatever. Here's my world in all it's glory.</span><br />
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<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I am an artist. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It does not feel at all real. I announce: "I'm off to my studio" on Facebook and fall about laughing. Yet, here I am arting away. Artist are as artists do.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The session with <a href="http://www.nicolanaismith.co.uk/" target="_blank">Nicola</a>, my mentor focused my work for the month. I had suggestions of activities I could try, as well as artists to look at.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Nicola has got me rethinking artists materials and surfaces. I've put away my usual drawing pens and am now using a dip pen and drawing ink. Given my cartridge pen was taken away from me at school because I covered everything except my paper with ink, it's been a challenge.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">One of the suggestions was covering a 10m roll of wall lining paper with my stick forms. I've only managed about a meter and let me tell you, ten meters is quite a lot. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It turns out I like using dip pens and ink to draw my shapes. It gives me The Happy.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I'm beginning to let go the idea of me being a figurative/representational painter.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">In fact, I'm not even sure I can call myself a painter...or that I'd even want to.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I'm still getting used to the idea that what I'm doing now isn't so much about learning to be a better painter (which I've been working hard to do), but rather my challenge is to explore the length and breath of my artistic practice. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">My work with Nicola isn't only about how prepare for my application to an Master of Fine Arts programme, our time is also about how I build a solid artistic career.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I've known for some time that retirement will be something that other people do at the end of their working lives. I won't retire because I intend to create art and (hopefully) to write until I stop making sense or I drop dead. Whichever comes sooner.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The lack of retirement means I am thinking about creating an artistic life from the foundations upwards. To this end, I've overhauled my morning routine of coffee, social media and squabbling with strangers on the internet. Julia Cameron, author of the Artist's Way strongly recommends doing Morning Pages before anything creative. I've taken this on board and have already finished on Moleskin notebook.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I'm also working on my meditation practice. My sanity is a precious and fragile thing and daily meditation is beginning to help me keep my thoughts under control. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Yoga and daily exercise is a goal I'm working hard for. My physical fragility is a constant source of frustration recently. I want to be out there running and lifting weights again. I miss feeling awesome. It also means I'll be physically more robust in my later years.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It turns out there's ten years of dust and cobwebs gathered in my brain. My ability to think critically (which wasn't all that great to start with) needs a good dose of WD40 and a massive wrench to get it going again. Anyone got any jump cables?</span></li>
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<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I'm working on several projects at once. This gives me The Happy. I like having several different schemes of work to dip in and out of. It means if I get stuck in one, I can hop over to another, giving my unconscious time to resolve the issue. It keeps me from getting blocked.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">As well as preparing for the show next autumn, I've been invited to submit work to an exhibition at the end of April (this April, like April 2017). It's called Sardines & Beer and is being held at Thirteen A in Norwich. I'll be putting in three pieces of work. One is actually Dave's, it'll have an NFS sticker on it. The other two I'm working on now and they will be for sale. I've only got about ten days to get them ready as they've got to be framed. No pressure. No pressure at all.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The exhibition next month means I've got to get other things sorted like: business cards, website...you know all the marketing stuff I should be all over, but actually have been ignoring.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I am an artist.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I've got to think about myself in the world in those terms and that's a bit scary. People believed me when I said I could do this and now I've got to get the mass of ideas from my head onto paper and canvas. Easy peasy.</span></li>
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<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The chickens are still in lock-up. Unfortunately, with the warmer weather, they've discovered how to dig. Dave and I moved them to give that patch of grass a break, he glanced out of the window and called me over. On a totally fresh bit of grass, within an hour Scrabble had dug herself a lovely hole up to her chest.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Bantams are brilliant for getting moss out of grass. If only they would stop there.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Apparently, I'm feeding the pheasants too much. Dave says their obese. Nonsense. I say they're just puffed up!</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Jenga was kicking up a fuss, when I went to see, the massive cock pheasant was strutting around like he owned the place. I did try to get a picture, but he became suddenly camera shy. </span></li>
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<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It's definitely Spring around here, though I am deeply resentful of the hour lost to British Summer Time. I don't care what the clock says, it still feels like 5am when my alarm bloody goes off.</span></li>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Well, that's enough for the moment. In my typical fashion, once I got going I was fine. Ah well. Let's try this again next week, shall we?</span></div>
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Roseshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07469442580348062913noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29905191.post-10528285753885981852017-03-02T17:56:00.000+00:002017-03-02T17:56:06.290+00:00Spring has Sprung Round 'ere<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Darlings, thank you so much for your support in my last post, I have news about the mentor, that's coming below. Again, thank you for your kind words and virtual hugs, they were so appreciated.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Z and LT have left me in charge of the Rampaging Rabble, which meant this afternoon I took the bins out for bin collection day tomorrow. As I walked to and fro I was struck by a sense of deep gratitude and appreciation to be trusted to be here. The Zedary is so beautiful and has healed so many of the broken parts of my soul, in so many tender moments, it held me in the moments of my deepest fear. Being here has meant more to me than I have words to express. And it's spring.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Darlings, there are so many snowdrops. I didn't realise a single place could have so many. Dotted around and in clumps. The narcissi have popped up, egging their later flowering cousins on, some of whom have risen to the challenge and refuse to be out done. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My chooks are laying again. They started last weekend and the noise they've been making about it, honestly, I thought something had got in there and was attacking them. I suppose they're a bit rusty yet. Happily, bantams don't lay all year round...or at least mine didn't. It means they'll live longer than their more profuse relatives. Z's velociraptors kept going through the winter and age doesn't seem to slow them down much at all.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The DEFRA regulations have lifted the most stringent of restrictions, tomorrow, I'll take the covering off their run, but will keep them all in. I would rather be safe, plus I've discovered how convenient it is to have them in all one place, not racing around creating havoc. With the coop being mobile, I've been moving it around, giving them new ground and a new view every week. It's working quite well.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The pheasants still expect to be fed. They congregate at the hedge when they hear my coffee grinder go off and then get closer and closer to the house the longer I take to feed them. We had some snow about three weeks ago and they were all but banging on my kitchen window. Daft things. They noted I was feeding the rabble and milled around hopefully. Feeding them twice a day would be too much, they're portly enough I feel.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And for my three bits of totally awesome news:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">1. Dave met with his oncologist late in February. He remains cancer free. Not only that, his poor baggy kidney is returning to its normal size and shape. A welcome surprise especially as that explained some of the discomfort he was having. Of course I cried. As much as I would like to tell you I've been big and brave about this particular follow up appointment, I can't. I'd be lying. I was worried as hell. Dave will continue having quarterly follow ups and after two years, will go down to bi-annual checks. I take every day as it comes. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">2. Social media to the rescue! (again) Thanks to Twitter, a lovely lady responded and offered her services. We met yesterday for the first time and she has been exactly who I was looking for: she's an artist herself, she works in education at the levels I'm looking for and she's just lovely! Thanks to her, my tentative plans are now better formed. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'm going to spend the next 18 months arting my little (hah) backside off. This time will be about building my practise as an artist, experimenting wildly, producing masses of work with the intention to put a portfolio together to apply for a Masters of Fine Arts at A.N. Art School (to be determined). Having a mentor means I can focus on doing work I'm drawn to, rather than working my way through a curriculum set by other people. I don't need the discipline put upon me. I just need some guidance and to be fed information occasionally. Having a mentor will do exactly this for me. I will also continue taking as many art classes as I can to continue to build upon my skills. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'm working towards a ten year plan and I'm quite happy to have the next three years accounted for; I know the seven years after that will be a slog. That's fine. If my foundations are strong enough I can deal. Besides, it's not like I'll be thinking about retirement. That is simply not going to happen. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">3. Remember I told you my friend Chris the astrophotographer and I were planning to work together to do an exhibition? I submitted the application a couple of weeks ago. Yesterday, I got an email accepting us! Put the 13th to 24th November 2018 in your diaries darlings, you're all invited. It's a conditional offer, as we haven't got the body of work ready to hang, they want to see one of my oil paintings next year. That's fair enough. They are taking a risk with me, I've only just started to explore the subject. Nevertheless, I did a happy dance around my living room. Shortly followed by the stunned "oh bugger" dance. Now the work really begins. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">At the end of November last year, I was struggling somewhat. I put together an action plan to help me get my shit together. December didn't happen because of that bloody virus, pretty much wiped out five weeks of my life (which I deeply resent), but there you go. In January, I discovered the joys of Bullet Journalling which enabled me to chase down my ducks, round them up and get them lined up in some semblance of order. It's meant I'm building a daily meditation practice to keep The Crazy at bay and got me moving again. I'm now beginning to work out again in the mornings, I've had to go back to the beginning with Rosemary Conley, but I'm moving and the best bit is that while I've been frustrated at my general lack of fitness, it turns out I'm a lot better than I thought. My resting heart rate has come down considerably. Three years ago, the best I could manage was 82 bpm, Now it's 68 bpm. Hopefully, that will continue to improve the more I move.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The ridiculous part is I'm getting up the same time and I do all of this stuff first thing...it's still second and third thing in the morning before I'm able to get on with the other things in my life. Having said that, I am not on the sofa very much at all, nor am I on Facebook or Twitter and it's been much better for my general wellbeing. There's some crazy shit going on out there. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Darlings, this month I aim to do better. See you next week. xx</span>Roseshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07469442580348062913noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29905191.post-30004189375877442552017-01-27T16:54:00.001+00:002017-01-27T16:54:06.077+00:00Situation Vacant: Art Mentor<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'm stuck and I need help here. I've gone as far as I can with what I've got and I am in need of some informed artistic input.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'm looking for <b>an Art Mentor</b>, someone who is used to working with art students at a degree plus level and who would be prepared to mentor me as I work through my various artistic obsessions. Someone who thinks <i>The Box</i> is a waste of time, never mind thinking outside of it. Someone who will provide constructive critique of my work and who will help me explore both context and push me both technically and creatively. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This is where I started off in April 2016.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhROW4FxqLSYt7S8wGM2L35LhyI_b0RYsxz_69u3UVh9qRy_8tVZHuraxVa-ls5RWneIShwBLLaiTPb_EmruvRTKn_s2SCJjEJEfAjZRnSV0pOaynY4Ndcm6PonWQ2qrx3vsxTA/s1600/IMG_0132.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="222" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhROW4FxqLSYt7S8wGM2L35LhyI_b0RYsxz_69u3UVh9qRy_8tVZHuraxVa-ls5RWneIShwBLLaiTPb_EmruvRTKn_s2SCJjEJEfAjZRnSV0pOaynY4Ndcm6PonWQ2qrx3vsxTA/s320/IMG_0132.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9NS8LfWcNzCdvAmausiVOXKwesXmt-FJkXBptqywFAcO6rDHehJtxxqSySLSbUmWzG9ebeW6GiMuEr3PNzihfsIIh9KS0RkA2u1ro7DJMr7UNGFXNaGOtgU4t_b3ZDdWbJ3Mp/s1600/IMG_0133.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9NS8LfWcNzCdvAmausiVOXKwesXmt-FJkXBptqywFAcO6rDHehJtxxqSySLSbUmWzG9ebeW6GiMuEr3PNzihfsIIh9KS0RkA2u1ro7DJMr7UNGFXNaGOtgU4t_b3ZDdWbJ3Mp/s320/IMG_0133.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And this is where I was December 2016.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitldtj3RFUZ5IZYn1nHsepIe9Etp6oyq-aZUDVrGmsmpbasd4Hw_uad3xhnyHIQn7xy5bPuiaFVuRZHZ45jRBW84s6Sio43Gc_iD2LNo_Nhur3arfNrFgJK2kfe9qUMro5LqCl/s1600/IMG_0336.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitldtj3RFUZ5IZYn1nHsepIe9Etp6oyq-aZUDVrGmsmpbasd4Hw_uad3xhnyHIQn7xy5bPuiaFVuRZHZ45jRBW84s6Sio43Gc_iD2LNo_Nhur3arfNrFgJK2kfe9qUMro5LqCl/s320/IMG_0336.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Pen and gouache on paper 8in x 5in</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But this isn't all I'm interested in. I'm in the planning stages of a joint exhibition for next year with a friend of mine and I also have an idea for an installation based on thought processes. And that doesn't even describe my thing for sunflowers...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I am doing a handful of hobby art courses this spring and have looked at a couple of MA programmes and I'm in a bit of a predicament. I will only be able to go so far doing the adult education art courses, yes they will bring up my technical ability (which definitely needs to happen), but they won't push me far enough intellectually, they won't give me the contextual basis that makes art greater than creating pretty pictures. The Masters of Fine Arts programmes are happy to take my application, however they are keen to see some kind of fit with my previous BA in Creative Writing. While I maintain an interest in Word and Art, it's not my current focus...the abstracts with sticks are where my heart is...and I'm not prepared to squeeze myself into a box for the sake of it. I don't need the qualification that badly. I'm obsessed by the sticks, but I can't push the concept much further without some kind of input from someone who knows what they are talking about.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If you are able to commit some time and some energy, get in touch. We can discuss rates of pay and expenses. I'm not assuming you work for free and will respect your time.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If this isn't you, but you know who it might be, please pass this on. I'm not a time waster and assume you aren't either. Also, I'm based on the Norfolk/Suffolk border. It'll probably be easier if you come to me first time, so I can show you everything (yes, there's lots more) and see if we can work together.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Thanks</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Roses</span></div>
Roseshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07469442580348062913noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29905191.post-11834835478477001692017-01-07T22:03:00.000+00:002017-01-07T22:03:18.578+00:00Chicken Shenanigans<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The morning of the 6th December 2016, I was tucked up in bed, considering the day ahead, when I got a text from Dave. Before I could formulate a coherent reply (remember mornings are not my strength), he rang me with worrying news.</span><div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">DEFRA (the Department of the Environment, Food and Rural Affairs) issued a declaration, effective immediately regarding the outbreak of a strain of avian flu (H5N8) on the continent. In order to protect poultry flocks in the UK from the virus, everyone with poultry, whatever the size of flock, were advised to keep their birds indoors or take measures to cover their outdoor enclosures to limit their contact with any wild birds that may be carrying or infected. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The original housing order was well-worded and encouraged poultry owners to be sensible about their flocks' housing arrangement. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Z immediately suggested I move my velociraptors into her greenhouse that's standing empty until seed planting time. This I did. My flock had been in for a couple of days already with the foul weather and were glad to stretch out and explore their new accommodation. Unfortunately, their pleasure lasted until the evening of that day, when they waited patiently for me to come and get them to take them home. They were unimpressed when they had to sleep there and the next morning made their displeasure known. They spent a less than happy fortnight there. It got to the stage where they were so pissed off with me, they </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">stopped laying, </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">ran away when they saw me, and then went off their food.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">After my adventures with red mite over the summer, I had intended to upgrade their housing in the spring anyway. I'd had my eye on a plastic coop that would cope with being flushed and scrubbed within an inch of its life once a week. Despite Z's assurances that they would eat and they would forgive me (eventually), I changed my plan and ordered their new home. I missed them so much. I hated that they were unhappy and weren't in the garden milling around and making noise. The decision made, I placed the order, then fetched my flock home. They spent a couple of days in my greenhouse. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I can't tell you how good it was to have them back. We immediately made friends again...until 3.15 the next morning. When they first stayed in the greenhouse, they were little and Jenga hadn't started crowing. During the summer, when Dave was convalescing here, he used a small, hand-held noise monitor to discover that Jenga giving it large was 86 decibels per crow, enough to have the local council slap an ASBO (anti-social behavioural order) on him. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Jenga is an early riser. He wakes up, has a stretch and calls for the sun five or six times in row, then he rests for about half an hour or so and has another go. I was unimpressed. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The next morning he was more considerate and toned it down a bit. I was grateful, but still considered getting ear plugs. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Happily, their new Eglu Go Up! arrived. By the way, if ever you wonder why I adore Dave to the extent I do...he put the various bits that arrived in five different boxes, without violence to my person. There was quite a lot of muttering under his breath but frankly, considering the complete nightmare of flat pack assembly, he was very reserved.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I see flat pack instructions and they immediately translate themselves into Mandarin or Malay. I can't do it. If someone shows me how to put it together, I am perfectly capable of copying them, but to do it cold...bad things tend to happen. Dave is really good at translating written instructions for me and I'm very good at getting the different bits together and passing the right tool at the right time. I am also brilliant at getting out the way at the part where something needs hitting with a bigger hammer and making tea. I'm also brilliant at plastering up gouged, sliced and hurty bits.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6uwabKGMy4zZxj1Xd3Zct1q1cnGCftCoYQDidlNqmOemaxTGXSzLpyW09xQ3zQgScwLD2Ai3XiYlt1FzAJ3eW6ajhVF5lXqSKfg8TYXiD5CvvCWpmuKa7hlcTJs-rijnnUHU-/s1600/IMG_0325.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6uwabKGMy4zZxj1Xd3Zct1q1cnGCftCoYQDidlNqmOemaxTGXSzLpyW09xQ3zQgScwLD2Ai3XiYlt1FzAJ3eW6ajhVF5lXqSKfg8TYXiD5CvvCWpmuKa7hlcTJs-rijnnUHU-/s400/IMG_0325.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Their Eglu comes with wheels, so we can move it around the grass every few days to protect the garden and give them something new to nibble. Chickens love their greens. It's a brilliant coop. Big enough that they can have space to move around, their sleeping quarters has ingenious doors which once they're tucked in at night, are predator proof.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My velociraptors are happier and that's all that matters. (You'll notice I said "ier").</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As far as avian flu is concerned, I think the measures are reasonable considering the risk to poultry. Not long after the poultry housing order was issued, a farm in North Lincolnshire lost 5,000 turkeys to the wretched virus. Those birds that hadn't succumbed had to be culled. It must have been awful for the farmers. I'm sure there is financial support, but even so; to lose 5,000 birds that's terrible. After that, there were a couple of cases in Devon and Scotland, but when a backyard flock in Wales came down with it, I knew my flock would be in for the duration. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This week, DEFRA announced the extension of the housing order until the end of February. Dave was increasingly uncomfortable with just the top being covered over and so yesterday we covered over the run completely. As it is, my flock don't mind, it keeps the wind off of them.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This summer, I'd gotten into the habit of feeding the multitudes of birds that live around here. I started with fat balls on the damson tree, then peanuts, fat slabs on the lilac and then sunflower seeds on the cherry tree. Then the local pheasants figured out that I shook out the chickens' feeder every day and started visiting regularly. A pheasant in a cherry tree eating sunflower seeds out of a feeder meant for finches is quite a sight. I started throwing an extra handful of food out for them. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Given DEFRA's guidelines are to limit wild birds mingling with kept, I had to change the arrangements. The feeders have been moved to a tree outside of my garden, in Z's orchard and I started feeding the pheasants under the hedge opposite my kitchen window. When we asked people who knew about such things, they felt it was better to keep the wild birds well fed, to ensure they were robust enough to fight off any infection. The only problem has been that word got around and I've gone from feeding maybe four or five pheasant hens to ten or eleven hens and two or three cocks! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I now have inside pets, garden pets and outside pets. And they all make out that I don't care and never feed them! If I'm late with the pheasants' breakfast they mill around staring pointedly at me from under the hedge. When I call they come running as fast as their legs can carry them. I adore them so much. I'm so pleased no one is allowed to shoot them on Z's land. They're so sweet. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">All in all, things have settled down and we're just waiting it out. Some people have suggested that DEFRA have been over-enthusiastic with their reaction. I disagree. Given that many peoples' livelihood depends on their poultry, anything that can be done to mitigate the cross-infection, is wise. Also, I'd be heartbroken if my flock took ill. They're my pets and I love them to bits. Hopefully, this is all there will be of this and we won't have to speak of it again.</span></div>
Roseshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07469442580348062913noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29905191.post-69604929278788912762016-12-28T21:29:00.000+00:002016-12-28T21:36:05.695+00:00Slamming the Door<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The weeks since the end of October have been "interesting" as the fear and grief of the past year took their toll. It wasn't quite depression, but there were a couple of days when I was definitely skating around it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I didn't think it would be like this. I thought I should be filled with energy and enthusiasm and able to crack on with my life with vim, vigour and a renewed sense of optimism. It's not been like that at all. I've had days where doing the immediately necessary was my only priority. I did tomorrow, that which did not incur charges today. All the while struggling with this enormous sense of frustration at myself. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">My To Do List darlings, is ginormous. I have Things to do, people to See and a sense of a ticking clock. I've been drifting along; although I am deeply grateful to be here - at this point in my Life - I'm also aware that drifting isn't enough. I know I can drift, endure, survive etc etc but enough is enough. It's time to Live, to lace up my walking boots, grab my stick and map and journey. Journey as a verb, a doing word. Not a thing that is static and fixed. Life will happen anyway: taxes will need to be paid, my butt will continue to expand, there will be more wrinkles and grey hairs this time next year. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I've used the time to create a Plan for World Domination. Of course a new Plan requires a new book, and thusly one was purchased. I considered my time frame and did some day dreaming. In the end I came up with a 10 year Plan (I thought I'd give myself some leeway to get side-tracked), wrote it down in detail and frowned at it for a few hours. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">There really wasn't anything quite as dispiriting as looking at my dreams all laid out in blue and white in sensible lines and bullet points. I took myself to the emporium of dreams, otherwise known as The Range (a down-market department chain store). It has an amazing art and craft section. I spent...well, let's not go into too much detail about that shall we...time...looking at all their goods and brought home many, many unsensible, irrational and delicious things to put the fun into my future. I channelled my inner six year old, scrawling all over my Plans with gold and silver pens. Highlighting and emphasising points with pretty stickers. It made me happy.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I've since broken my Plan into six week chunks with a list of things I would like to accomplish, the first of which I'm now half-way through. The first week was brilliant. I was focused and productive and feeling very pleased with myself. And then...I got sick. I got hit with a chesty cold that laid me out with a single punch and has been giving me a good kicking since. I am shifting it slowly, I am happy to say, it's now a question of getting rid of the dregs.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Unfortunately, it hit the week of Yule when my festive To Do List was a mile long. I had to postpone, re-book, cancel, rearrange the whole week. I don't know what I would have done without Rowan and Dave who did shopping and downscaled our plans with understanding and without complaints (and by the way, I'm not entirely sure I'm going to ever get past the ridiculous irony of saying to someone who endured six months of chemotherapy: <i>I feel really awful; I'm sick; I can't today, today</i>.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">As far as my Plans for World Domination getting off to a phlegmic start, I knew full well that the festive season would throw things out anyway. The idea was to start, that was the purpose of the exercise. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I lived up to my promise to Dave. You may remember I have a deep loathing of turkey and I promised Dave that if he was still here we would celebrate with turkey for the festive season. He cooked me turkey for Boxing Day and I ate every scrap with deep prayers of gratitude. In actual fact, it was no great hardship. He performs magic with demonic poultry and made it not only edible, but delicious. Darlings, I did draw the line at cold turkey sandwich. That was a step too far. A woman has to have some standards.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I reiterate the Winter Solstice blessing I posted on FB: </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "san francisco" , , "blinkmacsystemfont" , ".sfnstext-regular" , sans-serif; letter-spacing: -0.23999999463558197px;"><i><b>May the returning sun bring with it compassion, kindness, decency and a wish for greater tolerance and understanding between all peoples.</b></i></span><br />
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<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "san francisco" , , "blinkmacsystemfont" , , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; letter-spacing: -0.23999999463558197px;">I hope that we all work hard to build bridges in 2017.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "san francisco" , , "blinkmacsystemfont" , , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; letter-spacing: -0.23999999463558197px;">Love and peace to you all.</span></span>Roseshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07469442580348062913noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29905191.post-69135664179020477112016-11-05T13:45:00.000+00:002016-11-05T13:45:30.120+00:00Politics of Nostalgia<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I long for the days when Britain was Great.</span><div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It's true. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I look around now, on social media, in the papers and I see little evidence of Britain's greatness. What I do see is fear, hatred, anger and unkindness on a level that is sobering.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The qualities that used to define greatness: kindness, generosity, respect and decency are fast disappearing. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This summer 52% of the voted to leave the EU and what followed has been appalling. The racism and xenophobia spouted in mainstream politics and in the media is astonishing. Leavers and Remainers trading insults like whether Britain stays or leaves the EU is going to be decided by who gets the most burns on Facebook. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My hand is up. I am not only a Remainer, but I'm a Remainer who indulged in a few slanging matches. I have good reason to be fond of the EU. My adopted mother is German. When I had a "proper" job, I was an Economic Projects officer delivering business development and support projects for local businesses, projects 75% funded by the EU. I was able to do this because the EU supported a telecottage in a seaside town, that hosted an Access to Higher Education certificate, which got me to university to do my degree that landed me my job.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">After the results of the referendum were out a couple of Leavers messaged me privately and told me the reason their votes fell where they did. They were valid reasons. Reasons that have got lost in the midst of the Witch Hunt against immigrants. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There's a movement that encourages solidarity with immigrants by the wearing of a safety pin. If an immigrant sees a safety pin worn by a stranger, they know they can sit next to them without fear. I thought about wearing that pin...and then I remembered...I'm an immigrant.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Not only am I an immigrant, I'm a woman of colour, a single parent. I'm working on the sexual diversity, but I'm too in love with Dave to be truly serious. I am everything that the rabid Leavers hate. This is the first time I've every felt uncomfortable going out and about in public. I live in rural Tory heartland. This is the first time Norfolk hasn't felt like home. And I miss it so much. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The right-wing rags are only interested in their profiteering. Dear Gods can't anyone else see the irony of an old billionaire white man from Australia schooling the UK on what it is to be British? Kindness, decency, caring does not sell papers.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">On Thursday, the High Courts ruled that Parliament, not the PM Theresa May can trigger the Article 50 to leave the EU. There are death threats against the judges who've upheld the law (and sanity). That's what democracy now means: the freedom to incite harm against the person who doesn't agree with you. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'm not saying the Remainers are any better.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">How many times has calling someone stupid, illiterate, ignorant etc made the other person re-consider their beliefs? Seriously. I'd like to know. How often does disrespecting the other person bring them round to your way of thinking? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Here's the thing, people don't listen when you shout at them.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'd very much like to get back to the good old days. When you could disagree with someone's politics, shake hands and get on with sharing a pint in the pub. When people talked to each other with respect and listened to the responses. When Foodbanks were inconceivable. When people weren't expected to hold down 2 and 3 jobs to just get by.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The fact of the matter is people are afraid and rightly so. The British economy is truly up the spout. Tory economic policies have cracked the NHS and pushed the welfare system probably past fixing. The safety nets that used to exist aren't there any more and our local communities aren't like the Americas, where there's the expectation that a good neighbourhood looks out for their own. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It's easy to blame the Other...but actually, it's all our faults. We've got us to this point. Silence is taken as consent. I'm not going to shut up. I love this country. It's my home. It's where I became an adult and grew my son. I am committed to being here. I will fight to make Britain kind again. I will fight to make Britain decent again, safe again. I will fight to make Britain respectful again. Damn straight.</span></div>
Roseshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07469442580348062913noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29905191.post-45191982124197610672016-10-22T10:50:00.002+01:002016-10-22T10:50:46.443+01:00The Unexpected<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The last two weeks have been difficult. I was hit by a vomiting bug that left me feeling queasy and being very careful about what I ate for a week. The day after my stomach finally settled down, the sore throat and head cold came around to party. The only reason I survived is down to gallons of tea and Beechams cold & flu remedy. Yesterday, I trudged along to my osteopath (not the one I went to in the beginning of September) and he gently coaxed my bones back into their proper alignment. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">From there Dave and I went to the oncologist. He asked after Dave's health, asked a few questions about his digestion and waste-moving works and then gave us the news we did not expect.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Dave is cancer free. He is officially in remission. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This round of treatment has been successful. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You will note the lack of the word "cure". It's not something that will ever be used in relation to this cancer. Dave will have follow-up tests every four months for the first two years and then if everything continues to go well, every six months, until the cancer returns. Or he gets run over by a bus. Or the Zombie Apocalypse. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The fact of the matter is he's cancer free now.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We have more time. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We went into town and celebrated in this fabulous new eaterie called Figbar that specialises in desserts. There are a couple of nods to savoury foods, but yeah it's all about the dessert there. We had huge mugs of hot chocolate made with whole milk, double cream and butter and three different types of chocolate. I had a maple and pecan swirl, Dave had a bakewell tart. We were like a couple of two year olds on a sugar rush and then had to go nap once the carb coma hit. I'm pretty sure my pancreas is on strike. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Dave said he'd never spent so much time texting people. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Today, he's back in the roastery and I'm home again. I'm not entirely sure how I feel apart from the obvious. My head is still a bit stuffed up with goo, but I feel fine otherwise. I'm going to take the weekend slowly and enjoy getting used to the fact he's going to be around to annoy me for a lot longer than we were expecting. It's a damned good feeling, I tell ya.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>Dave being a teenager</i></span></div>
Roseshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07469442580348062913noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29905191.post-882410535397354192016-10-16T15:20:00.002+01:002016-10-16T15:27:40.574+01:00Me Again<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It's definitely Autumn out there. I've put the heating back on, as well as my personal three layers of clothing. I put my tee-shirts away and promised them I won't strain the seams so much when I take them out (they didn't believe me, but hey). The next big thing on my To Do List is the garden. It needs me. I need more time.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Since I last wrote I've been very much focused on me. My health and of course, my art. The result of the comfort eating, I indulged in over the last eleven months has ground me down no end. Everything is too tight, I feel horrible in my skin. Having said that, the last eleven months have been hard, hard work and I have been in desperate need of comforting. It is what it is. My back, shoulders and neck have been particularly troublesome and have added to the general "bleugh". </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Now you see why I haven't been blogging? It would have been sentence after sentence of whinging and moaning.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I have been doing yoga and foam rolling and that has helped so much with getting moving again. After a muscle in my back bitched at me for attempting one of my exercise DVDs, it was clear that my body needs me to be more gentle, more understanding and just keep moving. Since then, I've been doing the most gentle yoga routines I can manage. That's just been great and my back is gradually improving. Very gradually.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I've been focusing on my art more and more. Trying to see how I can push myself beyond my current technical limitations. With this in mind, I've signed up for a few improvers classes and a fortnightly fun drawing class and it's been really good. My technical skill will get there, but at present, it just can't keep up with my imagination. To be human is to learn to live with the frustration of my own limitations. That I know these limitations are temporary, does not help. I am an instant gratification kinda gal. I want it; and I want NOW. I have a learning curve to conquer and I am determined.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Having said all of that, I am treading water somewhat. Dave had his follow up scan and blood tests last week. We will see the oncologist for the results soon. We will see how well the tumour has responded to this round of treatment and where we go from here. We won't talk about remission, the chemotherapy didn't get all of the primary tumour, but hopefully, we will be able to talk about a dormant period. It preys on my mind. Dave continues to be well in himself, albeit a bit prone to enjoying the odd afternoon nap. Given the choice of being stretched out with him, I'm not one to judge.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">He is making plans for what he calls his "Farewell Tour", to go and see his friends far and wide. He hopes he'll be doing it along Status Quo lines and will be touring for many years to come. I hope so too. I am making plans about my art, but that's a post for another day. Be well. Until next time.</span>Roseshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07469442580348062913noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29905191.post-69190005207175765942016-09-14T12:21:00.001+01:002016-09-14T12:21:51.547+01:00Growing Pains<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I've been suffering them this summer. Much to Boy's annoyance. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I've been calling him a teenager, getting his birth date wrong (I know, right. And I was there. All 27 hours of the whole process). </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">My Boy is all growed up.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Last Monday, he graduated from the University of Lincoln having successfully secured his BA (hons) in Advertising and Marketing. He's now on the depressing hamster wheel that is the job hunt.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">You have to understand, I'm not coping well. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">You'll remember I didn't cope well when he turned 13 and officially became a teenager. I'm not coping well now either.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The thing is, it's a bit of a given that a parent will love their children (or at least it should be), but I like him. I genuinely like him as a person in his own right. I respect his values and I love his sense of humour. He's kind and generous, he's supportive and ambitious. And yes, we drive each other nuts occasionally. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">He's gone from this:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">to this:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Could I be any more proud of him? I don't think I could, I'm at bursting point as it is. As he's all growed up, I suppose I'd better refer to him by his grown up name: Rowan.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span>Roseshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07469442580348062913noreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29905191.post-74768771706205857692016-09-03T12:31:00.002+01:002016-09-03T12:36:40.861+01:00An Open Letter to All those to Whom I Offered Unsolicited Advice:<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>I am truly sorry. It was done with the best of intentions, I saw your pain and wanted to make it better. I wanted you to stop being in pain. I thought the way to help was to give you the benefit of my experience and wisdom. I see now how mistaken I have been in taking that approach. Actually, what you needed was a hug, a cup of tea and a genuinely listening ear. I am sorry that I failed you and will try harder from now on.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Lots of love</span></i><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Roses</span></i><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This letter is overdue. It comes out of a cup of tea a couple of Thursdays ago with Stephen W, an NLP coach as we spent the afternoon putting the world to rights and talking about the changing world of Personal Development. One of the things we discussed was what people need when they sit down and go "OMG life sucks."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Do they need interventions? Better coping strategies? A blank cheque? No. Actually, what they need is a friend. Some one to sit with them and listen without judgement or advice. People by in large, don't need fixing, they aren't broken. Life happens and people make the best decisions they can given their experiences up to that point and in the circumstances. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">By in large, I'm not broken. I don't need fixing. Life happened and I made the best decisions I could given my experiences up to this point and in these circumstances. I only know how to be Roses in this world. I don't know how to be you. I'm sorry if I tried to impose my experience on you in your time of need. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It happened to me a couple of days ago. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It was delivered with the best of intentions. The unsolicited advice. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I was told I would only really be happy once I accepted the situation with Dave. Once I came to terms with the cancer and the inevitable outcome. Death I was told, comes for us all. We are all going to die.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">As I said, the best of intentions.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Here's the thing. Since December, I've been living with the fear, sorrow, disappointment and grief. I don't have the cancer, it's not me fighting for my life. It isn't about me, and yet, it is. It is about how well I keep it together. How well I sort through my To Do List to do the crucial things first, the essential things next and to be able to shelve the important things so I can rest, until they become crucial or essential. It is about how well I can hold my courage, and then to be kind to myself, when fear overcomes and makes me want to run away to the other side of the world or into a book or ranting on Facebook, so I don't have to deal with my feelings. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">He talked about "acceptance". I think I'm going to have to sit him down and investigate his definition of acceptance. I know what's coming. I've been there before. I have been with three of my parents as they faded and died. Here's the thing, I don't like it. And I don't have to like it. Perhaps it's just a misunderstanding of the concept of acceptance on my part. Over the next few days, I'm going to explore it further. Acceptance is bandied around a lot, a bit like "closure". </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The thing is: I'm doing the best I can. If I think something will help, I do it. The fact of the matter is: this is a truly shitty situation and the only thing that will get me through this is by living in the moment and being open to what comes. I can't do any more. I physically and emotionally cannot. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">All his well-meaning advice did was make me feel more inadequate than I did before he opened his mouth, and resentful of his observations of my fragility and vulnerability. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It made me aware of the times I have done that to my friends. I don't want to make that mistake again. I'm sorry. I truly am.</span>Roseshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07469442580348062913noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29905191.post-38025296816202855652016-08-22T21:58:00.002+01:002016-08-22T22:04:45.437+01:00Almost there....<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This is the last week of Dave's treatment. On Friday he will have finished the complete course of radiotherapy. Phew. He did it! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">At the start of his radiotherapy, he moved back to his as it was easier for him to do the daily appointments from his home just outside of Norwich, than from here in the wilds. I confess I found that change a bit traumatic and the weeks after were a bit hard. In truth, Dave has coped with his diagnosis and treatment far better than I. My physical and mental health have pretty much been in free-fall as I've struggled to deal with things. As a friend said over coffee and cake this morning, there isn't a guide book for our experience over the last eight-nine months. We've been dealing with things the best we can. Some days are better than others. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">As always, I take the moment to be grateful to the loving support around me. Boy and his lovely have been absolute towers of strength. Z and LT have provided gin and wide shoulders at moments notice. The Lovely and Great Ursus have been ever present, ready to provide tea and cinematic fun. Julia, the fabulous poet kept a weathered eye on me and whose cheery messages lifted my flagging spirits so many times. Not to mention the denizens of Facebook who kept me chuckling with cheeky memes and general shenanigans. Not to mention my other friends who come running at the first sight of a window to meet up, who've understood the weeks of silence. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The Mindfulness Course is fun. Of course I'm the unruly pupil, with my mind like a barrel-full of monkeys. Much of it, I've come across in different forms before, but the condensed version has been incredibly useful. The different meditations and exercises have been very difficult as my monkeys refuse to stay quiet for too long. Had it been easy, there wouldn't have been much point in doing the training. I had to miss last Saturday's session due to the cold that Dave so generously gave to me. I spent last six days feeling like Monty Python's foot squashed me. Bleugh. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I've been continuing to Art and am beginning to feel more confident. It's funny, but I pick up the brushes and the pencils without much thought. With the writing and poetry, it's always taken a bit of a push and procrastination before I've sat down. I'm not doing as much as I would like, but that's down to the other responsibilities I have right now. I nearly gassed myself by using turpentine in my studio, this lead to a thumping headache and the purchase of more-lung-friendly solvents and a brush-wash tin. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I'm continuing my abstract work, but I've also been working on my drawing skills. I don't particularly like still life paintings, but I recognise that it's a useful learning opportunity. I set up some sunflowers and got lost in them. Much to our surprise I produced a drawing that I'm really quite pleased with, I gave it to Dave. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We had a fabulous weekend in London. There was amazing vegan food, outrageous cocktails, The National Gallery and a boat trip down the Thames. Van Gogh's Sunflowers took my breath away. I could have stared at the painting for hours. Unfortunately, the tourists were an absolute nuisance. And I also include the domestic visitors under that label. There were crowds of people around Sunflowers, all taking pictures of themselves or their friends with the painting. They'd then move off without pausing. It made my blood boil. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It's not a pretty painting by any means, but Van Gogh captured the sunflowerness of the flowers with each stroke of his brush. The yellow of the background is almost gold against the yellow of the petals. It's just gorgeous. Don't assume that the paintings you see in books are like their physical selves. Paintings have a presence photography doesn't capture. There's a rawness to Van Gogh's work that I knew because of his history, but it was only standing before his paintings (there are four in the National) that I really felt it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Anyway, it's time for me to put it out there. This is what I've been working on....</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>Interconnectedness</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>Interconnectedness detail</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>Interconnectedness II</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>Sunflowers</i></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">So there you are. My arting. I need to do it and it pleases me. I suppose that's all that matters really. Hopefully, the words will come creeping back in the next few weeks. I miss them.</span>Roseshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07469442580348062913noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29905191.post-62111988534751908702016-07-24T10:25:00.003+01:002016-07-24T10:30:37.885+01:00Missing the Words<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I can't think of another period in my life since I began my creative writing journey in 2003 where I've lost the Words so thoroughly. It's not that I haven't been creative in this time, in fact, I can honestly say it's been one of the most wonderfully artistic times, but there just haven't been the Words.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Dave begins his radiation therapy on Monday. His fabulous oncologist wants him to do a five week course, five days in the week to knock the tumour back well and good. There is a great deal of concern about how well his bowels will cope with the radiation as there is the chance that they may become paralysed. This would mean a period of hospitalisation and the end of the treatment at this time. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It's meant Dave's return to his abode outside of Norwich as it will be easier for him to get to his daily treatments from there. I've had a re-shuffle of my bedroom and have incorporated my studio space in it. I also went through my bookshelves and removed two-thirds of my books, keeping only those I am likely to read or are attached to. I now have a plastic crate full and about eight bags of books waiting to go to charity shops. Letting them go was quite hard. Most of my reading these days is genre-based and I tend to download the books onto my kindle out of preference. I find it easier to read on kindle when I can adjust the text size according to how tired my eyes get. And it's not like any of the books are valuable to anyone else. Hauling them around the countryside is an exercise in ego that I no longer have time for. I've known too many people with massive libraries full of worthy books, who were complete tits. I've got nothing left to prove to anyone.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The chickens are fine if a bit of a pain. Canasta decided to go broody again, but with the temperatures being what they were, I was disinclined to let her stay in the greenhouse. I hauled her squawking butt out of there every night and if it got too hot, put the laying bag outside under the damson tree. She got fed up and stopped, but unfortunately all of the hens then stopped laying in the bag. At first I thought they'd stopped laying because they were moulting, they're a scruffy looking bunch these days, but no; they're laying away. I kept them in for a few days and actually, they are laying. Today, I let them out and I'll see what they do. If they keep laying away, we shall have to think again about the arrangements. I can't be having chicks on top of everything else right now (or ever, given Jenga's genetic closeness to the girls). </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">You may, or may not remember that this time last year I did a five day artist's skills and methods course and then started a year long drawing and painting course. The five day course led to me falling in irrevocably love with oil paints. I tolerated the drawing and painting course, but had to drop out in January with Dave's diagnosis. I think it must have been April when I thought "fuck it" and picked up my drawing pens and then oil paints. I had to learn as I went along and it was mostly an exercise in frustration. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Dave lost patience with me and strong-armed me into signing up for a day's course in Oil Painting for Beginners. He also suggested that if I like the tutor, I should ask if they are available for private tuition. He then hit me with the line he used to use on the PhD students in his care: why spend an afternoon in the library, when you can spend six months in the lab? Umm...yeah...okay. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I really liked the tutor and he seemed to get where I was coming from. We arranged for him to come over and have a look at everything I'd been working on. After he left, I felt quite nauseous. My little shapes, my little obsession spoke to him. He gave me lots of technical advice and his questions made me take myself, my creativity and my art seriously. I'm into the abstract. Shapes and colour in their purest form. Partly because I don't have the skill to do representational art, partly because I'm not terribly interested in representational art. Much of the art scene around here is still life and landscapes. I am booked to do another day's course, this time it's oil outside. I want to know how to draw and paint, if only for when I move on from these shapes. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Yesterday, I started my four-week mindfulness course. I've never had formal meditation training and I figured this is the perfect time to address this. My mind is like a barrel full of monkeys which is mostly fine during the day, not so great when trying to get to sleep. The past few weeks sleep has been a precious experience. Given sleep deprivation makes me cranky and more vulnerable to daily stresses, anything I can do to help myself right now, has got to be a good thing. Also, because I'm doing this as a course and there are exercises and homework, I have to do it. There are no excuses. Last night, I drifted off to sleep without any difficulty. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">So that's pretty much it darlings. I keep putting one foot in front of the other. I'm pretty sure the Words will be back, so if you could be patient with me, I'd be grateful. I don't take your friendship and support for granted. </span>Roseshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07469442580348062913noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29905191.post-3319962412340478132016-07-03T14:55:00.000+01:002016-07-03T14:55:00.399+01:00July, who'd have thought eh?<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Hello lovelies. How's it going?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It's been a busy time what with one thing and another. Writing hasn't been terribly high on my To Do List that seems to have a reproduction system akin to a rabbit. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The last scan Dave had at the end of Cycle 4 showed no difference in the main tumour's size. Given the side effects have been getting worse and the damage to his right kidney after a consultation with his oncologist, Dave decided to call a halt to the chemo and go for the radiation treatment. We are waiting for his appointments to come through. After that course, there will be another scan and hopefully, a long period of inactivity on the tumour's part. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Dave however, will be very busy. He's really looking forward to going back to work at Strangers Roastery. Although, he's been popping in and doing tastings and the odd bits of work, he's missed it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I've managed to get a few days in the garden with Dave's lovely sister and we are beginning to tease the shape of things to come out of the mass of nettles and ground elder. She has promised to come visit in the autumn for a mega planting session, but in the meantime, I've got a lot of work to do. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My application to do the MA has been turned down. It's a "no", but not a permanent no. It was felt that I had too much to deal with emotionally and the training would be distracting and too demanding at this time. As disappointed as I am, I realised that they are absolutely right. I need my energies focused in my life right now. I have other things to do and the training won't be going anywhere.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The chickens are nuts as always. While I was away for my training, the little tinkers treated Boy and Dave like substitute teachers. They played up so much, I was embarrassed. Jenga in particular was a right dick about coming home at night. He thought he'd continue his disobedience on my return. It earned him a few days in the hen house while the hens played. I think he realised the shortness of my fuse when I ran him down twice. I picked him up and carried him home in the end. Since that time, he's behaved reasonably well. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Boy has his results and now has a BA in Marketing and Advertising. He's spending the summer having fun, working in various music festivals and intends to do his serious job hunting based with me, come the autumn. The job market for graduates sucks so incredibly much right now; it seems like an uphill struggle to get a foot in the door. He's got a good work ethic, oodles of determination and mad skillz, so I'm not worried about his future. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And then of course, there has been farce and catastrophe of Brexit. I've spent enough time rating about it on other social media and if I'm sufficiently moved, perhaps I'll throw my tuppence worth on here next week. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I decided to do some mindfulness training and learn to meditate properly, that will keep me out of mischief for a bit. There's also the arting that continues in dribs and drabs. I wrote a poem the other day and there's still my novel to get stuck into. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">One thing is for certain, Life is all about Change. Some within this woman's control, most not at all so.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> At the moment, I'm going with the flow.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span>Roseshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07469442580348062913noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29905191.post-2959512699280697192016-06-07T17:57:00.002+01:002016-06-07T18:13:57.736+01:00It's June? Really? How?<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Darlings, I'm sorry. I've neglected you dreadfully. It's just been a bit of a tough time and social media seems filled with enough doom and gloom without me adding to it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This cycle of chemotherapy has knocked Dave sideways and as a result, me as well.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We are doing fine, all things considering. Dave is fricking amazing the way he continues to cope with the chemo and the side effects, as well as me worrying and fussing. The last two cycles are in sight. Yes, there will be the radiation therapy...but we are counting down the sessions now.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The weather this Spring has been diabolical. Truly vile. To the point where quite frankly, I was considering putting my heating back on. And then suddenly, on Saturday...after 10 days of cold, damp and grey...there was sunshine!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Dave's sister and niece came up over the weekend and brought with them loads of warmth and enthusiasm. Just what the doctor ordered. They got me in the garden; got me digging and thinking and planning. When they left Sunday lunchtime, I continued. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It turns out all my hard work last Autumn with the chickens digging out the roots of the perennial weeds wasn't wasted. Although I haven't eradicated the ground elder and nettles and they've sprung up again with great enthusiasm, they haven't got quite the hold that they've previously enjoyed. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Z gave me some lovely plants for my birthday. I'd been scratching my head wondering where even to begin. Dave's sister pointed me in the right direction, got them all in and looking fabulous and I've carried on ever since. Following her good advice, I've broken down the gardening into mini-projects and I've been focusing on one area at a time. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">My scatter gun approach wasn't really making a visible dent in things (even though it was) and now after roughly four days work, I can really see the difference. There was a pond, and while it could have been again (or a bog garden) I decided to keep the structure and create an homage instead. We'll pop in little alpines in rocky crevices and it should be quite fun.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Scrabble and Polly are in their second broody week. I'm getting a bit bored of them hanging out in the greenhouse now. It's put Canasta right off laying there and I'm having to chase around after her to make sure I find her laying places. She's also quite lonely wandering around by herself. Jenga...well...he's swanning around making loads of noise as usual. No change there.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Have some pix darlings.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1ko9HueXjkVB-oaSGKNsYvZ758lfstraPfgUjFJ6GsY0rMFZfUcK6cqBx8gi1_SOO6sbVXO4SkMBCkgaxlaaPOMUIFgf5srJRbhaNw1ITJ9dQf2LXMdFXi9Y653ZK6UeJDgxx/s1600/IMG_0112.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1ko9HueXjkVB-oaSGKNsYvZ758lfstraPfgUjFJ6GsY0rMFZfUcK6cqBx8gi1_SOO6sbVXO4SkMBCkgaxlaaPOMUIFgf5srJRbhaNw1ITJ9dQf2LXMdFXi9Y653ZK6UeJDgxx/s320/IMG_0112.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>Look at my magnificent cock! Isn't Jenga gorgeous?</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>My birthday plants from Z (except the oriental poppy that gatecrashed the party)</i></span> </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsXGi6cx_ndBhnuk5UIZylIIrehpX2jgsIg9lWXjYzNS84CsQugdiwLjXUlk1QQj71kzppIKWQ2FFfb_H8Ma56-5s57aU7ZV_DiQC2RNcqi1vK8urC9oHcMdxzZOGiIo-m08Hp/s1600/IMG_0115.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsXGi6cx_ndBhnuk5UIZylIIrehpX2jgsIg9lWXjYzNS84CsQugdiwLjXUlk1QQj71kzppIKWQ2FFfb_H8Ma56-5s57aU7ZV_DiQC2RNcqi1vK8urC9oHcMdxzZOGiIo-m08Hp/s320/IMG_0115.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>The Pond Homage</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>From another angle</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>Teeny Tiny Very Smelly Roses</i></span></div>
Roseshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07469442580348062913noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29905191.post-66053261771961817342016-05-07T22:06:00.001+01:002016-05-07T22:41:45.106+01:00From Chickens to Gardening, via Bullocks<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It's been a bit weird and crazy and nuts round here for a variety of reasons that will ensue further on. To bring you up to date as quickly as possible, I've decided to bullet things. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Chickens</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>Polly wondering when Canasta would stop being such a dick</i></span></div>
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<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Well, it's been a bit fun around here. Canasta decided to go broody and determinedly sat in the greenhouse outside my kitchen door.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Broody hens are grumpy-as-fuck hens. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Polly thought it looked like fun and tried it out for a few days. But then she realised it was not very much fun at all and went back to normal.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Jenga played fast and loose with two of Z's pullets to the point that they were escaping from her coop to go play with him.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">He became a very wilful cock and began refusing to come home at night. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I caught one of the hens trying to be broody and immediately popped her and Jenga in my coop.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">They were as happy as anything until Scrabble and Polly realised what was going on.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I returned the little hen suitably chastened and kept Jenga in for a week or so.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">He has behaved since.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Canasta eventually got bored sitting on a clay egg and is now back to normal.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">My little flock is happy again.</span></li>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>Canasta wondering why she can't be left alone</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Cows</b></span></div>
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<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Well, bullocks actually.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">While Z was away, a very nice man brought seven of them to over-summer on the Ups & Downs field.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Which was fine, except bullocks aren't cows (yes, I know. I'll explain. Give me a minute).</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The cows last year were quite content to mooch around the field, eat grass and sunbathe.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Not so these young lads.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Within days they sabotaged their drinking tank and started playing with plastic pots stacked on the other side of the fence of the kitchen garden.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">They liked to play "It" with the cats and chickens. The chickens and cats didn't find it as much fun.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The little buggers tried to eat the roof of the chicken coop with a mum and her youngsters. The tin with the chicken food was always covered with bullock spit every time I went to feed them.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">When Z got back she moved the coop, sorted out the water trough and generally got the youngsters to behave (because she brooks no shit from no one, no matter how much bigger they are)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">A couple of weeks ago, she came through slightly apologetic saying one of the bullocks escaped and was currently standing on the drive.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It took three of us to get the damned thing back.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It escaped again within 10 minutes of being put back.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">While we waited for the dairy farmer to send a man to fix the fence, as I sat there watching it, it tried three times to get out. Little bugger.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Herding chickens was good practice for herding cattle. The only difference was the bullock was bigger and had more legs. Seriously. No difference. Attitude problems. </span></li>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Dave</b></span></div>
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<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Pamela (who is totally lovely and awesome) sent Dave a pressie, all the way from Winnipeg, Canada. A blankie in his favourite colours.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">He loves it to bits and for days wouldn't even let Rummy share.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The chemo is beginning to bite and Dave is getting more easily fatigued these days.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Thankfully, we are nearly at mid-point. </span></li>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Cats</b></span></div>
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<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">When Z was away with LT (Lovely Tim, her SO if you don't visit her blog), I looked after the menagerie, including Eloise the cat.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I've given up shutting the doors between our respective abodes.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Eloise likes to come and visit. She says she comes around because there's never any food at hers. We know that's major fibs, but she's now got her own bowl here.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">She will come round and will greet Rummy with a nose sniff, closely followed by a thump and then there's Ball of Cats rolling around the floor.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Rummy gives as good as he gets.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">They chase each other around the garden like mad things.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Rummy will often go visit Z and LT in the evenings.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It's very sociable around here.</span></li>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Chickens</b></span></div>
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<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">After Canasta stopped being broody, Scrabble decided she didn't want to lay in the greenhouse anymore.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I knew she was laying away, but hadn't got it together enough to follow her.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Dave found she was laying in some nettles (always the bloody nettles) on the other side of my fence.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">That was fine. I took the eggs away and put one of the clay eggs there, so she'd keep laying in the same place.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Unfortunately, I forgot to tell Z's gardener not to mow over that spot.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">When Scrabble discovered she couldn't lay in secret there anymore she was very put out.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">She spent the afternoon looking for places to lay.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Dave and I were having a cup of tea at the dinning table when we glanced up and there she stood in the living room, on my carpet. She'd come in through the front door.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">As gently as possible I shooed her out (I didn't want her to crap on the floor in protest).</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">A little while later on, I come up to Dave who is still sitting at the table. "There's a chicken on the kitchen counter," he says. I look and see my chicken mug on the kitchen counter. "OMG the chemo has rotted your brain," says I in my usual caring fashion (call me Florence). "No, not the chicken mug" he says slightly annoyed. "Chicken on the counter!" There's a little burble, I go to investigate and sure enough, there's Scrabble.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Z pointed out I could have got a large pan out for her. It would have been efficient. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This is why I love Z so much.</span></li>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Art</b></span></div>
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<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I'm painting again. It's brilliant (no, not my painting - that sucks) being able to be creative again.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I am now okay with the fact that it will take many years for me to suck less at my art. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Dave bought me a proper painter's smock to go over my clothes. He doesn't want me to use his jumpers any more. Fair enough.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I realised that the sketching easel I was using wasn't robust enough. Dave brought me a studio easel as a birthday present (because he is awesome).</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The great thing about working with oil paints is I can put down my palette (okay, plastic plate) and brush and walk off when I've had enough. It also means I can pick them up again just as easily. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Dave came through and saw me painting in my onesie, covered by the smock. He thought it was really funny (I don't see it myself. He has a strange sense of humour). </span></li>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>The Meaning of Life</b></span></div>
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<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I am pursuing my training in Core Process Psychotherapy.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I went down to Devon for the first in two weekends of foundation training.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It was bloody brilliant.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">So much so, I've applied to do the MA.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I will need to complete the foundation training and attend an interview.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Please keep everything crossed that the Powers that Be look upon my application favourably.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It will be a few weeks before I know (I have to have the interview before they offer me a place).</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It will be a huge commitment in time and money, but one that will be worth it.</span></li>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Gardening</b></span></div>
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<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It seems this is the week of British summer. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I've already carted three barrow-fuls of nettles and other weeds out of my garden and it doesn't look any different. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">At least my work of last autumn was worth it. The nettles are coming out a lot easier this time round. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It also helps that my beloved bought for me a pair of leather gauntlets that the nettles can't sting though to get my hands and wrists. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Unfortunately, I still got stung on my legs as I moved a bundle of the damned weeds around my body. Bastards. </span></li>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Apart from my still ranting about the state of hospital parking, we are still here, breathing in and out regularly and happily. Much love darlings.</span></div>
Roseshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07469442580348062913noreply@blogger.com16