Graduated from art school in 2000 & have been keeping going creatively ever since - although sometimes by my bootstraps. I write fiction & poetry (& this). I draw & paint, & I cook, & I travel as often as I can. I know the world is not always friendly or conducive to the creative life or to the open heart, so I'm just working on keeping my inner fire alight, hoping that people like me can all help keep the bigger light burning too. May we all have the good fortune to enjoy health, happiness & creative fulfilment!
My excuse this time is the leaving do of another colleague I'm fond of; Amazing Hair Woman. Who is off to spend nine months in Baku organising some kind of massive arts festival. It's a simply brilliant opportunity for her, but she will be missed.
Am going to try and exercise a bit of self-cntrol, anyway, and not ramble about any of my colleagues.
It's been a busy couple of days; my weekend already feels a long time ago. I had a very domestic Saturday (cleaning, cooking, sewing, grocery shopping, honestly I'm a bloody paragon of Victorian virtues). On Sunday I had a further list of useful sensible jobs to do; but it was such a beautiful day that I thought "The hell with this" and instead I went out and walked into Richmond along the Thames path. I picked blackberries and took photos, and strolled in the sunshine, and when I got into Richmond I got fish and chips, which I ate out of the paper, sitting on the Green. Then I bought some more groceries in the health food shop, and came home to cook my blackberries. So I still got a bit of the domesticry crammed in. But mostly it was a day of slow, peaceful strolling along the river.
It was the kind of perfect autumn day when the sky is clear brilliant blue and the Thames is silver, and it's warm but not too hot, and the leaves are just starting to turn. The thorn trees were scarlet with haws and the air was full of the sound of robins whistling.
It was late enough in the season that the berrying was quite thin pickings. I had to walk slowly, searching with a steady gaze; half switched-off, half-meditation. I could feel my mind emptying of all my worries and concerns, settling into a state of empty calm, at one with the yellow leaves, the cobwebs and silky heads of old-man's-beard, and the singing birds. I strolled and gazed, and picked a berry here and there. By the time I got to Richmond I had almost a pound, but I don't think there'll be any more to be had this year.
I didn't see any sloes; but I've made damson gin this year (always assuming it turns out okay) so maybe I can manage without sloe gin as well.
But anyway, Amazing Hair Woman has gone the way of the Redhead and La Francaise and The Lovely Paul, on to fresh fields and pastures new, and I am sticking around. I have work again tomorrow, so I had better stop daydreaming about how nice it was being out in the sunshine and the fresh air on Sunday, and put myself to bed.