Tales From Pixie Wood

Going To The Chapel

I wailed to a friend recently "Why are these learning curves always so steep, I'm tired, I wanna get off"
But you know, when the lessons are this good and the answers like individual, daily epiphanies I never, ever want those learning curves to get any less steep.

I was in the house on Monday and I was moaning. An ongoing conversation full of questions running through my head.

Why can't I cut this fabric to the right size?

Why is it still raining?

Why are the channel taking so long to come back?

Why do I not feel like going for a run?

Why am I so tired?

Perhaps I need to go for a run?

Why am I still getting huge, massive zits on my chin when I'm almost thirty three?

Maybe a run would sort that out?

Oh. My. God. Why can't I cut a simple piece of fabric to the right size EVER?

Mmmmmm......what a load of bollox. Vacuous bollox. Draining, unrelenting thoughts about yours truly. I only needed to do one thing to lift me out of this miasma of self centeredness and yet it took me until six o'clock in the evening to do it.

I was tidying up at the end of the working day and I decided to take the bottles out to the side of the house to the re-cycle bins. It was as I bent over to drop them in to their new homes that I realised I hadn't said "thank you" for anything that entire day. I also noticed a breeze on my face. A breeze that always signifies a change in the weather to me. A sign that Winter is well and truly over and although it may not warm up for a few more weeks it was over. It was no longer a Winters Tale but the Rite of Spring.

If I had wanted to I could have walked off in to the breeze and in to the evenings sunshine and followed the sounds of the birds until they decided to retire for the night. I was free.
I was free.
I gave thanks for my freedom. What about people who weren't free, both physically and metaphorically?  In that moment of giving thanks it was like my whole being was transported right back to where it needed to be. Here. Now. Alive. Well. Fortunate.

A year ago today LBH and I were still living in an apartment in London. A family of five were living across the hall from us. The mother would fill a paddling pool up with water and put it out on to the balcony we shared  so that her baby daughters could play in it. They didn't have a garden, or grass to fall on when they played a little too rough. They had a small balcony over looking one of the busiest parts of London. Looking back and seeing just how much LBH and I have been given over the last eleven months astounds me. And so to realise that I spent a day NOT giving thanks simply for cleaner air to inhale than those children, who still live in that apartment, will ever breathe makes me feel incredulous towards myself and the time I wasted.

In a single second I felt great again. I once again noticed everything I had been given and everything that was so good about life in all its forms.

So as well as going to the chapel to be married in a little over three months I am spending as much time as I can in another sort of chapel. One of gratitude.

Giving thanks for the great love of my life and how fortunate I am to be marrying him.

Giving thanks for our home and the garden that we now have.

Giving thanks for today and the moments it held.

Giving thanks for now, because thats really all I have.

Madonna Or A Bubble Bath Bubble

I'm sitting here cutting out teeny weeny felt tree trunks for a project and thinking about Madonna, as she's just been inducted in to the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame. I like Madonna. Not because she burns crosses in her videos or has a penchant for simulating masturbation on stage, or even because she has a much better body than me at nearly fifty years old when I'm only thirty two. I like her because she is still here.

Lets be honest, we all have days when we feel like Madonna - or a Madonna type figure - powerful, brave, ballsy, carefree and then we have others when we feel like a bubble made by the bubble bath we use. Fragile, ready to be popped and never seen again with the most fragile of touches.

We can look around us and it can appear as if everything is perfect - so why do we want to cry?

The room shown in this post is our guest room.

This room has the advantage of almost never being untidy, simply because its used less than the other rooms. I come in to this room and lay on the bed when I'm feeling small. I stare up at the ceiling or look out on to the garden that LBH and I are finally making sense of. I ask myself whether I have too much and perhaps that is why I am feeling like this?   I ask myself if its me, what have I done wrong to have these invasive feelings? Perhaps I get up too early and work until too late and get so tired I sleep standing up? If thats the case then why do I feel as if I am never getting enough done? Perhaps I'm not cut out for this? Blogging, exposing, teaching, publicly crafting, publicising, dreaming, creating, hoping, wanting, writing, searching. Perhaps things need to be quieter, gentler, simpler, less 'big'? There is no time to fit it all in. I can't drink any more coffee and I can't set my alarm any earlier. I just feel small and my bottom lip keeps trembling.

I saw my doctor the other day with regards to my pesky hip, it keeps having spasms, spasms of pain. I like my doctor, she's......hmmmmm, what is she?......level, my doctor is level. I was feeling very discouraged that day because I knew that she was going to suggest physio and my first thought was "I don't have time!!!" We chatted and got on to a conversation about somebody in the press recently. I commented on how if we all were to realise that in fact each one of us were the same we'd be ever such a lot happier. She looked at me and said that she thought that was a truism if ever there was one.

So in effect if I believe what I said then I would be able to take great comfort in knowing that we all have bubble bath bubble days. You may lie on the couch or stare out of the car window. You may lay in the bath or sit at your sewing machine. I lay in our guest room, not for very long mind you, just long enough to .....well, to think.

And then I get up and get on, sometimes feeling a little better and sometimes not at all. I guess that's what I like about Madonna, she gets up and gets on, not always partaking in something I would do personally (although I do love her in a pink leotard) but she gets up and she gets on. Whereas the bubble bath bubble, well thats gone and its not coming back.

Cx

'Perfection' ........"What the...........!!!!!!"

I am so mad right now. Steaming mad not just simmering! No, hang on, I'm not mad I'm frustrated...SEVERELY SO!

There has been something that I have been unable to put my finger on, a question that I have been unable to answer and now I have found the answer I find myself in a state of frustration. Like I have on a million layers of clothing and someone has sat me in a sauna, that kind of frustration!

OK, I'm going to do my best to explain this but I have no idea whether or not it will translate well or come across the way its intended to, so I'm going for broke and grasping at the limited amount of language that I have at my disposal. I'm also going to use pictures of cake to illustrate my point.

When I meet people from the world of television the question that is levelled at me more than any other is this one "So, what makes you any different to 'insert the name of a British television presenter, turned television housewife, who teaches you how to be 'perfect' here'? I have nothing against the person that they are asking me to compare myself to, I think there are some really good organisational tips that are given on the show she hosts, but I simply have not been able to rustle up a good, solid enough answer when that question has been posed, even though I knew in my heart what made us a little different from each other.

This afternoon however I believe I found my answer and funnily enough I found it in the aforementioned persons book. I picked the book up at my local bookstore and began to read ... and therein lay the problem. From the moment I picked it up not only was I was bombarded with contradictions but also facts that I found ......if not a little useless a great deal infuriating. The fact that here was someone telling us how to be the 'perfect housewife' and I'm not quite sure if the book was even written entirely by this person. I read on a bit further and came across a piece of text that basically said that homemaking was essentially a female task and we should really leave the political correctness at the door and leave the fence fixing, shelf assembling and car oiling to the guys.

Waaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!! I'm planning on starting to build my own fence this very weekend, does this mean I can't do it ?

Look, I'm not going to get into the nitty gritty of what I thought about this book as I said, I am not sure how much of it has actually been written by the famous lady who's name is attached to it and I know that a large portion of it would be written wholly tongue in cheek. My objections came to a head because of the fact that.....

A: the word 'perfect' was used in the title and that irks me...

B: I found no joy in what was being discussed...and that too irks me and,

C: SOMEONE IS MISSING THE POINT!!!!!!

I can be rather contrary on ocassion but only in one sort of situation and that is if I feel like somebody is telling me I 'should' do something. I am more likely to eat a battery farmed chicken while dressed in nothing but a full length mink coat than do what they think I 'should' do. So if I have EVER made ANYBODY feel like they SHOULD be doing something in their homes then I apologise. This was not intentional.

Then there's the joy part, or distinct lack of it. Where. Is. The. Joy. ????

I don't spend hours dreaming up new ways to 'make house' because I think I should, I do it because it's in my very bone marrow as something that I love and want to spend the rest of my days doing - THIS IS NOT A BAD THING OR A PERFECT THING, its simply what I do and how I am made. I don't want to be dismissive of ANYBODY when I say this but I don't care if people think what I do is good or bad, worthwhile or setting the female movement back by fifty years, it is of no consequence to me because I know that what I do actually enables me to work towards being the sort of person that will give me peace and in turn I can behave more peacefully towards others. I believe that this type of behaviour can be summed up in many ways and philosophies but to name a few - creating good karma, reaping what you sow, cause and effect, etc, etc....
And of course it doesn't mean that I have it all sewn up either it simply means that I am trying.

So that is my answer. When somebody else from the magical world of television asks me what makes what I do so different to someone who is asking us to be 'perfect'? I will say "It gives me peace and joy to do what I do and I often find those qualities infectious. So lets spread a little bit of those qualities around shall we and give me my very own show?"

Hee hee! I'm only kidding about the last bit of my answer. When my hip was dislocated before Christmas and I was forced to lie there on the sofa and take stock of all the things that had been on my mind over the recent months. I truly realised that all of the goals I was working towards meant nothing if a few, specific, cornerstones were not in place. The arrival of my nieces cemented that and in turn paved the way for a great deal of fear to be lifted from my shoulders. So I write this rant not from a bitchy or mean perspective but simply from a refusal to have what I see as something joyful be labelled as a way to become 'perfect'. If a person I am interviewing for a job ever says in the interview that perfection and being a perfectionist is one of their faults or attributes, I would run from the room screaming and they would simply not get the job.

Now here's the cake part.

Below is a slice of cake. It is 'perfect'. Look at how nicely it sits there, on the plate, all.......perfect.

And here is the same slice of cake after I had finished it......

It is no longer 'perfect' but it was certainly enjoyed. I want my love and passion for homemaking to be the same. Lip smacking, plate licking, scoffed until you dropped enjoyable...whether its perfect or not. I want to be building, hammering, oiling and painting with the best of them. Would that make good television? I really don't have a clue and to be honest its not up to me to be focusing on such things. What is up to me is to carry on doing what I am doing and eating enough fruit and vegetables and foods that are high in fibre and low in fat so that I can carry on doing it forever and ever!

Oh bother.....I suppose that means no more cake. Like heck it does!

Love Cx

Not About the Home Today

I find the news of Heath Ledger’s death very saddening. I watched his work, most notably in Monsters Ball and Brokeback, with utter admiration. Actors, of the sort that he was, are terrifically sensitive; otherwise they wouldn’t be able to move us with their performances. I know this because I grew up around them and studied with them for three years in an intense environment. I think I was one of them for a very long time. But that place, the place where you abandon yourself to sensitivity, is a hard place to live in for any length of time, no matter how good the performance.

It grieves me most of all that his daughter will never know her father, will never be able to climb in to his lap and have him whisper how much he adores her in to her ear after a tough day in the school playground. I couldn’t care less for celebrity but the life of actors such as Heath Ledger and others of his calibre I find myself caring a great deal about.

I had a dream, last Friday night about Britney Spears. Poor girl. I don’t care how much money she has or how she manipulates the press, this is celebrity at its lowest and when there are children involved I think it abhorrent.

In my dream she had passed away. I don’t recall how but I think it may have been an overdose. All the current ‘stars’ were on the television, weeping about what a tragedy it was and how somebody should have helped her. Then they decided to televise her funeral. The entire world sat there watching this funeral like we all watched 9/11 unfold before us. There was a huge cast iron boat. It was more of a tanker actually, vast in size and covered in rust from years of being at sea. Britney’s tiny coffin was strapped to the side and then in front of the world plopped into a raging black sea.

I don’t know what this dream means and I sometimes I think she came into my dream simply because she is in every paper and on the cover of every magazine. But it’s hard to watch people being extinguished in front of us on a daily basis. They don’t seem happy with a life that many, many people dream of living.

It takes a huge amount of strength to leave a dream behind. A dream that people expect you to succeed in and have ‘faith’ in you to fulfil. But if your days are being wasted in a miasma of unhappiness and a wretched longing for peace then it’s time to get a new dream. I speak from firsthand experience when I say that a life of ordinary can be absolutely extraordinary, if you’ll only let it.

Cherry

An Act That Is Almost But Not Quite Together

I'm not quite sure how I got into this much disarray so early into the year! The two words that run through my mind the most right now are 'oh' & 'crap' as I remember something else that has to be done. So this post is super short. I know we have business to take care of and a magazine draw to do but I also know that if anybody understands a juggling act, you do. We are also smart enough to know that it's not the act of juggling but the attitude towards it. Mine's a bit stinky right now!

Here's a metaphor for ya - instead of freshly laundered bed linen it's all becoming a bit 'slept in'

I KNOW YOU GET THIS! PLEASE TELL ME YOU GET THIS!

Therefore I shall take myself away, FOCUS, sort my bits and bobbles out and arrive back fresh and ready to go again.

Cherry xoxox

*exhale*

The picture in this post is part of my new collection of embroidered pieces. Coming soon.....

You Stop, For Just A Moment, And It Hits You

I discovered this week how pain makes me terribly weepy. LBH comes home slightly early from work and brings a box of Thai food for two with him, I burst into tears at the emotion of it all. I sit on the sofa with the fire going and my hip throbbing away and Boo comes meowing down the stairs with a sock in her mouth and presents it to me on the living room rug as a kill. I sob into her fur how much I love her and how there will never be anybody who loves her as much as I. LBH clears out the kitchen cupboards while I direct operations from a seat in the kitchen and then he vacuum's the house, goes out and picks up the Christmas booze stash and waters the two trees and again I can feel my eyeballs welling up.

I have decided that I am not going to dismiss this soppy time as simply something that will pass when the pain of my dislocated hip does. I am going to remember EXACTLY what it was that made me feel these indescribable moments of tenderness.

They are as follows.........LBH, food, kindness, time, warmth, help, Christmas and love.......

 

....and that face. I lifted myself off the sofa and onto the floor for a much needed change of position and she joined me. Thank you camera for being plugged into the laptop and by my side, and thank you Boo for ........um........well.....your 'Boo-ness'  There's no other cat breath I'd wish to envelope me as I grasp for respite on the living room floor. No really, I jest not, I loved it........truly.

;-)

What They Don't Tell You

I love watching the Biography channel. I loved it when it first started and my parents had SkyTV. I would watch for hours at a time until the loop of shows would finally begin again. I was at drama school at the time and considered it all research. The biography's that they would show would invariably tell the story of a young girl or guy who fought his or her way to the top of their chosen tree. An individual with immense talent that seemed to go unnoticed for a certain period of time before their personality exploded into the worlds eye view. The show lasts an hour and covers a persons entire life. From birth until, if they have already passed over, death.

My good god, sometimes I WISH I could get my life into an hour long segment, you see then I wouldn't have to wait.

Wait.

What an innocuous word.

It's short, like many other powerful words such as God, F**K, Go, Stay, Love.

Wait.

I'm waiting right now for various things to happen or not happen. Or perhaps I should say happen now, not happen now, happen in the future....... Confusing, no? I have been observing the subtle things that go on while I sit and wait. Not physically sit, mind you, but my mind, while racing around in it's usual fashion, is also waiting. Silently, still and powerless.

I believe that waiting and the feelings that this state bring with it are relative to each and every one of us. You may be waiting for test results, scan results, a phone call, affirmation, confirmation, good news, bad news, news that will change your life or news that will ensure that your life stays the same. Whatever you are waiting for I am with you in the frustration of it all.

We know, deep in our souls, that waiting doesn't last forever, even though it feels like it. And we have heard SO MANY TIMES that it is not about the destination but about the journey. I know that, you know that, but what happens when we know that and we still feel like a deflated balloon on the 2nd morning of January?

Do you sleep more, worry more, eat more chocolate, drink more champagne, make more stuff, stare into space more often, stay up late watching odd shows about serial killers on television, trip up the stairs (AGAIN) bruising both knees and fall into bed in inconsolable pain as your companion strokes your head, clean the house like a mad woman, wake up hours before the alarm goes off raring to go, think you're fat, wish that Ally McBeal was back on TV, look at the mess you have made in your office and have no desire to clean it up  or nearly cry at the happy times being had by the girls at the Playboy mansion?

If you do any of those things then count me in as a member of the group because I have done them all in the last two weeks.

This is the way my body and mind reacts when I have something that I do not want to have to concentrate on. I could react a lot worse and get into all sorts of addictions....... there but for the grace of God go I.

Waiting is a state of being that can be as tough as any other. What the Biography channels don't show are the periods of time that the future stars of  the entertainment industry, business world and political sphere spent waiting. Having done all that they could their fate now rested in the hands of another or in the lap of the gods.

So how am I going to wrench myself from this miasma that I find myself floating 'Ophelia' like in?

I am going to keep on keeping on.

I just sat down in front of the TV to have my lunch. I never do that, I have it at the table, but this is how you can get dragged off course by making tiny decisions that don't work for you. Before I knew it I was tired and it was ALL I COULD DO not to pull the blanket up around me and sleep away any time that I may have to spend waiting this afternoon.

So instead I came up to my keyboard, bashed out this post, as I find that very cathartic, and now I am going out in the cold garden to do something physical.

I have emoted all over the page today but how on earth can one apologise for doing that? I see the future, as I usually see the present, as a gift, much like the picture at the top of the post, I'm just not able to open it right now and that can sometimes be hard. But my steady stream of consciousness is out there on this bl0g and you are reading it. If you are waiting for something, anything, I'm right beside you. Staring up the road for a bus that you hope and pray will turn the corner soon and head straight for you. We can only hope that it will take us where we THINK we want to go.

Of course; therein lies the adventure, right?

;-)

Cx

Care To Join Me In The Lions Den?

OK, I'm laying my head on the chopping block with this one so feel terrifically free to BE KIND.......

I was chatting with some folk yesterday and they asked me to describe what I do, succinctly!

I could have sat there and said "Well, I really like to do bits around the house, I craft, I write three blogs, I run a business, I love all things domestic but I'm also the original party girl etc, etc. I am more than aware of what is going on in the outside world and take a great interest in all things social, cultural, environmental, rural etc, etc, etc.....but I love to decorate and am never happier than when my home is running well etc, etc. But of course I'm constantly fighting the clock, a full schedule, there only being 24 hours in a day etc, etc"

You get what I'm trying to say, or rather, was trying to do yesterday. It's just that the word 'homemaker' is a misnomer and I really only try to use it with my tongue firmly placed in my cheek. I think it can allude to the fact that you don't go out to work, which is just not true in many cases. It's certainly not true in mine, I work my bottom off. I also think that it doesn't quite sum up just what hard work it is if you don't have a job outside of the home but instead raise a family and keep house or simply keep house if you don't have children.

And what about the women who have broken through the glass ceiling and have achieved a great deal in the corporate world but still have a love for all things, dare I say it, domestic? What about those women who find solace and comfort in knitting, quilting and scrubbing the bathroom but can be a real ball-breaker in the boardroom? Sealing deals and managing teams with such aplomb.

Homemaker. It's a word that is misunderstood but I am darned if I can come up with something that does encapsulate a love of homemaking.

I'm not a fan of labels, so I'm not looking for a label as such. I know a great deal about how it feels to pigeon holed from my days as an actor and it's not fun. I just want to know how other people describe what it is that they do if they are in a similar situation to me, and I know that there are hundreds of you because you all have blogs that cover many of the same subjects as I do.

We may come to the conclusion that 'homemaker' is indeed the best word to sum it up. We may agree or disagree on another word entirely. We may of course come to the conclusion that we don't even want to think of a single word or title that sums up what we do, thank you very much Ms. Menlove, so please don't ask us to.

Jeez, as I write this I'm thinking about whether I really want to HAVE to sum up what I do. Who cares what I do as long as I am happy!

I'm not throwing this out there for any reason other than my own curiosity and a longing to articulate what it is that my life has become.

Hang on.........................................perhaps that's it?

It's just life. My life and nothing more complicated or profound than that. I am of the opinion that there is a great deal to be gained from a love of the ordinary because that is what many days are like. But it can be scary to be thought of as ordinary lets be honest about it.

I'm once again behind the sofa, peeking out occasionally to see what you've got to say, longing to know what you think because I want to continue learning. Once the learning stops I may as well call it a day.

Cx

Note the beautiful, calming pictures of the English countryside, easing you into your response to my request. Calm thoughts, calm thoughts, calm thoughts.........Eeek!

Realisation In Public

Mmmmmm, so this is the way it goes when you are fortunate enough to have a blog that people read. If you make a misguided decision or choice about something and then blog about it you have to face up to the fact that if you change your mind for any reason or reconsider then folk are going to know about it. It goes with the territory and that's that.

The conversation went something like this.........

LBH : What's the matter hon?

Cherry: I don't know.

LBH: Are you sure?

Cherry: I can't put my finger on it.

LBH: Well when you think you know what it is make sure you tell me. OK!

Cherry: Of course, thanks hon.

A few days later........

Cherry: I think I know what's up.

LBH: What?

Cherry: I'm worried about the blog. I'm under some pressure from it and I'm not sure what path to take.

LBH: Oh right, what's going on in blogland?

Cherry: I am still blogging away and folk are still contributing with comments, emails etc. But then I'm getting some messages from folk that are hinting towards the fact that I am not contributing tho their blogs. I'm struggling with that.

LBH: Tell people that you're busy. People will understand that.

Cherry: Everybody is busy though!

LBH: Can you put something on your blog that explains that it may take some time for you to get back to them or that you may not be able to always comment on their blog?

Cherry: Perhaps, I've seen other ladies do that on their blogs.........I was thinking that maybe if I turn my comments function off then I can continue to blog and if folk are under no obligation to comment then the pressure is off. Right?

LBH: It's a toughie hon, you have to do whats right for you.

And so, that's how it came about. It was a reaction to pressure, from several sources not just my blog, and that is how I chose to handle it. I write about a great many things that happen in my day but not all of them. There are things that go on which are boring, exciting, top secret, mundane. It would be foolish and crashingly boring to blog about everything but over the last month or so and certainly in the last two weeks I have felt the squeeze. I suppose that turning the comments function off was really the only thing that I could turn off. The only thing I had a touch of control over.

It was nothing more than a simple act of wanting to cut myself some slack or create a tad more room for myself.

How awfully silly.

In hindsight, wonderful thing that it is, what I did was to take away the voices. Your voices. Voices that have been absolutely, extraordinarily generous to me and I turned them off. It's rather unforgivable, but that was my reaction to some pressure.

I'm not sure how any of you respond to the pressure that you find yourself under. I, as well as turning off the comments, have found myself becoming very clumsy. I already told you about crashing into the unit at the top of the stairs and bruising my ribs and then banging my head on the nightstand. I fell up the stairs again a short while ago. I was walking, not running, and had a plate in my hand that held my lunch. As expected the sandwich landed butter side down as I tripped. I stared at it for a moment and simply stepped over it and carried on with my journey to my desk to write this post, sans lunch, except for a few hairy bits of bread!

LBH saw the crumbly pile a few moments ago and laughed as he gave me a hug, before sweeping it all up. I love that man.

We woke up yesterday morning, LBH and I, with relatively nothing to do for the first time since the day we moved in. We went to the farm shop as I said we would and last night we watched an X-Factor double bill and an episode of that Saturday night variety thingy with Ant & Dec. I gotta tell you I LOVE AND ADORE Ant & Dec and found myself laughing like a drain when they both tried to do a weather broadcast. Then we switched channels and found that BBC2 were having a Steven Fry night and once again I realised that I was staring at the television in absolute awe of such a wonderfully human, human being. I am taking both Ant & Dec and Steven Fry with me, in my pocket, into this coming week.

So that's it. My little 'coping with some pressure' journey. I will undoubtedly feel these feelings again, sooner as opposed to later I'm sure, but I shall look to find another way of dealing with it. I can say no more but I can offer you a Pumpkin. Please take a virtual Pumpkin from my autumn food basket. I didn't grow them myself but I did buy them locally so I can vouch for their goodness. As I can vouch for yours.

Cx

I'm Enjoying This Getting Older Lark!

Waaa haaah heeeyyy!!! Tomorrow is my birthday and I am throughly looking forward to being a year older. It seems at this moment  in time that my younger years were much more tumultuous than the years that I am living through now. I struggled with my twenties, in retrospect of course, but am LOVING my thirties.

So, I was contemplating this age and thinking about all the things that have brought me thus far. An age that is not old but not adolescent. One that allows me to marry with complete confidence and think about starting a family. One that gives me the spirit and courage to write about the things I love and to build a business and a lifestyle which is founded and based upon my moral compass and the things I hold dear.

So, by way of answering, in a round about sort of way, all the folks that have tagged me, here are some things that I have learnt about myself on my way to being thirty two years of age. Please be aware that they are in no particular order and are fairly random. But hey, it's still early..........

I am an instinctive business woman as opposed to an entirely logical one. This is why it is a very good thing that I am marrying an accountant as he fills that gap. Having said that, I trust my instinct. It serves me very well.

I know that it makes me unhappy if I let things become too complicated or chase the vacuous things in life.

I hold any tension I may be feeling in my tummy.

I have a cat that is co-dependant on me and I like it. Mmmmmmm....now there's one for the psychoanalysts!!!!

I have always wanted to have boys for children. I may be changing my mind on that as I would like someone to watch romantic comedies with by the fire while we both work on a piece of embroidery. Perhaps  a mixture of boys and girls would be nice? Perhaps I'd better just be pleased with whatever pops out!!!!!!!

I have learnt that to try and figure things out  or predict the future leads to dissatisfaction. I'd much rather manage my expectations of things and keep my eye on the important balls, i.e. LBH, family, friends and my home.

I have also learnt that to compare is a sure fire way to feeling very depressed indeed.

I have learnt that it is easier for me to be the boss but that I will never fill my need to continue learning from others.

I am very good at making decisions but I am very bad at telling LBH about them and for that I humbly apologise.

I am learning that to worry will, quite frankly, waste years of your life and remove your joy.

I have two mantras..........

'I'm not afraid of anything'

'Be kind'

....these mantras may stay with me for weeks or they may still be around when I'm sixty. Who knows.

I am essentially a messy person. But as I hate mess and have learnt that it is impossible for me to function in mess I have slowly taught myself to live in an environment where things are in place and in order. Without sacrificing too much cosiness along the way.

I love to write.

I love to take photographs.

I was born to potter and to subsequently tell people about my pottering. I am not ashamed of this and hope to continue doing this until the day I die.

I carry a notebook around the house with me and write all of  my discoveries down. Actually I have many notebooks. All them with a different subject matter. It's a pain in the bottom when I can't locate the right notebook for the right note.

My life seems like a natural thing to be living right now. When I worked in an office my life seemed as natural as trying to pass a very large plant pot through my left nostril every thirty minutes.

I wake up early each morning because I am excited about the day ahead and cant wait for it to start. Sometimes I cant wait to get in to bed at night because I know that at the end of the sleep a new day will begin. Let me make it clear that it has not always been like this and I may enter a time in my life, in the future, when the thought of getting out of bed and living for another day fills me with dread. But I'll cross that bridge when I come to it and remember my mantras.

Thats enough. I can't go on talking about myself as it will become very boring indeed. But it's important to chart our progress. To be able to look back, fondly, and reflect on how we change as people. This is a good time in my life and I thank God for every day I get to be here. I am so grateful and overwhelmed with relief that each day, as the alarm clock goes off, I get to turn over and see LBH, with his spiky bedhead, laying there like an angel beside me. And each day without fail one of us reaches out for the other and holds on. That is life. That is my life. And as long as I have that everything else that I have just typed out in this post means very little indeed.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhh! It's Friday. We made it. God bless the weekend. Especially when my birthday lies within it. ;-)

Before I go I'd like to pay tribute to a very special person. This person arrived at my door on Monday afternoon with a pile of magazines that looked like this..........

All them organised in to their respective years and tied with a yellow ribbon. Upon closer inspection you will see that this pile of magazines are actually the work of one woman.......

Any member of my family will tell you, this is possibly one of the best gifts I could ever hope to receive. It's like the heavens opened and it rained Martha.

Barbara B. how can I ever thank you for your kindness. I shall never forget this gift and want to send you all my thanks, from the very bottom of my heart.

Lots of love

Cherry xx