Oh hello, are you awake too? We shall have to whisper because it’s still dark ‘o’ clock. This will partly be because the summer is packing her cases and is taking the light with her but also because it is extra early and I couldn’t sleep anymore. I’ve made us a cup of tea and I think I’ll make us pancakes a bit later; I have some hedgerow blackberries and maple syrup we can dollop on top…
I like this time of day; it feels like a bonus and I can get a head start on the Little Houses. Although, having said that, they too are awake already. They’re pretending not to be but I can hear them rustling…
I wanted to ask you; I keep being nagged by a thing calling itself ‘Threads’ to join it. Have you joined? I’m not sure if it isn’t just going to be one more thing to need keeping tabs on… And, on any given day, I find I have more tabs open in my head than is healthy. One more will not help that at all…
Anyway, today’s little share is ‘Living on the Edge 238; Together Alone…’ There is no written story, only a title. You can decide what it means for you, do let me know in the comments…
Now, about those pancakes… How many will you have? … xxx
I was about to say good morning but realised that it no longer is… Or perhaps it still is where you are, in which case, hold on to it tight. It’s a slippery customer and will be out of the door before you’ve had time to wake up properly…
On to matters more pressing; Let’s have a cup of tea and, I don’t know your opinion on such things but I thought I’d risk it, there are pastel de natas over at the table on the prim and proper plates, please help yourself. Do let’s have a seat whilst a certain Little House recounts his woes of the week…
Living on the Edge 241; Star Crossed…
Lucas was tired. He’d been up all night labelling the night sky with his new pen. He found it all endlessly fascinating and was trying to get a handle on what was where and who was travelling around whom.
In the previous month, as his interest had deepened, he bought the most expensive telescope he could afford, moved up to the high plain and had his roof especially adapted for his star gazing. He spent night after night peering into the dark sky, leafing through almanacs, marking pages in ancient encyclopaedias and googling every relevant www dot he could find.
“If only Outer Space would spend less time keeping him in the dark, trying to be mysterious,” he lamented, “and more time helping me understand then, perhaps, I wouldn’t need to sleep all day…”
However, his hopes of ever being aided in his studies came crashing to earth at great velocity when a loud wail issued from Jupiter who had just discovered that Lucas’s pen was, in fact, a permanent marker… xxx
Also this week, I have re-opened the online shop. Do pop in and visit if you get a moment.
Well, hello! How are you? I know, it’s been ages! Amongst other things, I have been on a voyage to celebrate my sister’s big birthday. She lives in Australia, you see, so one can’t just pop in for a quick glass of fizz. One has to stay a while. They were having winter. The trip was wonderous, glorious and inspiring all in one and I have returned to a heatwave.
I feel refreshed and life now has a little bit of a shine which I am determined the Little Houses will not be able to tarnish… Speaking of whom… they have been getting themselves in a bit of a spin. Do have a cup of tea and a chocolate shortbread whilst they bend our ears with their latest exploits…
Living on the Edge 239; The Cruel Sea…
Heston had just settled in to rue the day. He was agitated and brooding. Over the preceding decades he had watched his small community diminish. He’d lost most of his family and many friends. He had identified the sea as the culprit but knowing something is not the same thing as having proof. And so, one by one, his nearest and dearest continued to fall victim to the murderous, unrepentant sea below.
Heston had reported the killings to the local police but scant evidence had been found and so it was proving to be exceedingly difficult to build a water-tight case. There were many loopholes in the law, which the sea gleefully exploited. But what made it made it nigh on impossible to pin anything on him was his liaison with a sinister and invisible ally, the wind.
Often Heston could hear the pair of them plotting downfalls, laughing raucously and egging one another on. He felt powerless. There had to be something he could do but he was at a complete loss to see what it could be. This wasn’t just a boundary dispute. This was land grabbing and murder rolled into one… xxx
Things…
There’s a tiny video of this piece on the twirler just here… Sound on!
My online shop will be re-opening soon, I shall let you know… In the meantime, let’s have another biscuit xxx
Hello, it’s Friday again. Hooray said I. It’s been a bit of a week what with one thing and another and I’m feeling a little frazzled. How about you? In light of how warm it was yesterday I’ve made some fridge cake, it’s not as warm today so there is tea in the pot and coffee in that machine over there if you care to hazard a guess at how it works…
So now, this weekend is my last open studio of the season so do come over if you can. Our CEO, Miss Floss, (pictured above with a stray Little House) has had a bath to mark the occasion; The Black Dog Deli, opposite, and The Ox Café at Yoxford Antique Centre (oh now that’s fancy, the computer has put an accent on the e for me… If I’d wanted to put one in, I’d have had the devil’s own job…) will both be open serving their deliciousness.
Also this weekend, Mr Simon Turner will be opening his studio – how fabulous, there will be much amazingness to see! He lives just round the bend. Although, if you asked him, I’m sure he’d tell you it is I who lives round the bend… And, as if all that wasn’t enough, I do believe that Nancy Main will have her door open too so you can see her beautiful ceramics.
You may be noticing that the Little Houses have not had much air time this week. Well, that is because I have been working on a commission that has to remain secret for the time being and I know that if I let them start talking they couldn’t help but let cats out of proverbial bags and that risk is just too high. So, if you don’t mind, don’t tell them we’ve been chatting. They have plenty to occupy them with getting ready for tomorrow and far be it from me to interrupt progress…
Have a brilliant, shiny weekend and I shall see you soon… xxx
Oh Yoo-Hoo! It’s Friday, time to stop for a quick chat and a moment of tea and biscuits. What have you been up to? The Little Houses are still on a high after the Open Studios, thank you for your messages and to everyone who came by. It was so lovely to see you in real life!
I’ve not told them about the next one yet because they’ll only start preening and fussing and I think we could do with a bit of hush for a few days…
So now shall we focus on the troubles of a certain someone who’s just back from the framers?
Living on the Edge 236; Science Fiction…
“… and so, to conclude,” said Sally, looking very smug, “if it is science, then it can be reliably repeated in an experiment. If it is not reliably repeatable, then it is not science, it is a trick, not magic. Magic does not exist.”
At the end of school Stephen shuffled home feeling small and wishing he hadn’t asked the question. He always felt inadequate and stupid when he worked with her and so she wasn’t the kind of person he wanted to be partnered with in lessons.
He could see what Sally was saying and it all sounded highly plausible. But. If he was not much mistaken, whenever he touched a computer or test tube, unexplained forces were at work. Magic definitely existed. He just needed to learn how to harness it. As the sun began to sink behind the West Ridge he sat, not hiding but, out of the sight line of his parents, watching the shadows grow long across the valley. He knew they were immensely proud of him. Disappointing them was the last thing he wanted to do but…
He looked over at his well-read set of Harry Potter books and silently began thumbing through the college prospectus in search of a new direction… xxx
Things…
1.The beautiful Llantarnam Grange Craft Festival: Award Winners Exhibition continues, it’s on until August 10th 2024.
2. My next Open Studio is Saturday 29th and Sunday 30th of June
Oh yoo-hoo! Good afternoon, how are you? Is life treating you well? Come and have a seat at the table and we shall have a cup of tea – or coffee – whilst keeping the world’s biscuit supply under control. Someone has to eat them so it might as well be us… I think these might be healthy; they have oats in them…
Here are the latest shenanigans from the Little Houses…
Living on the Edge 226; The Only Way is Up…
To say that the inhabitants of Driftwood Point lived precariously was to understate the facts. It was incredibly beautiful but, with that beauty, came very real danger. Only the brave lived there with good, strong core strength and a love of the raw outdoors.
The Three Sisters: Gerda; Melanie and Krista, now in their second century, had climbed as youngsters. They were not natural athletes and had clambered for months. The air was thin, their breaths short and shallow and every piece of them had ached like a song with only high notes. The decision to stay exactly where they were was an easy one to make. None of them relished the idea of putting themselves through any further struggle. Besides which, Gerda had come to realise that she wasn’t fond of heights. Even today, she occasionally suffers with dizzy spells.
A few decades later they were joined by Keith who’d felt the need to prove himself by adventuring right to the summit. Well, he almost reached the summit but settled a little beneath it and put down some strong roots there instead. He hadn’t inched his way up, as the sisters had done, but had stridden upwards, grimacing as he completed his ascent in a week. From his vantage point all he could see was sky and that suited him down to the ground. He learned the latest news from the visiting birds but what could he do about the world and its problems? He created as little waste as possible and his daily task was to take his needle and thread to the sky, mending the ozone layer.
Greg and Isambard stood close together at the foot of the mountain and looked up, contemplating their next move… Did they have what it took to join this tiny community? Isambard was doubtful. He’d forgotten the sandwiches and hadn’t plucked up the courage to tell Greg yet… xxx
2. My Open Studio is inching ever closer… It’s the weekend of June 15th/16th and June 29th/30th. Do pop in if you can…
3. I’m going to leave the door to my online shop ajar later this afternoon if you wish to browse. I have a little bit of faffing to do first but I reckon it’ll be open by 5pm (UK time)…
Hello and good morning Everybody. How are you? I have the tea things set up at the table and there are these fancy chocolate biscuits I’ve been saving for you. Do help yourself, the ones on the left have the thickest chocolate…
So, The Little Houses and I have not been speaking to each other for a week or two. I decided that, in the light of us not seeing eye to window on, well, anything, that we’d take a short break from one another. Things are still a little frosty between us but I think the rift is repairable…
Here is the story of one of our more, shall we say, headstrong? characters…
Living on the Edge 237: The Bridging Loan…
Despite the gusto with which he presented his ideas, Giancarlo’s plan for bringing vast wealth to the village was unanimously rejected by the committee. In his mind, he’d devised the perfect scheme to raise the village’s profile and turn it into a veritable hotspot for tourists.
He considered the committee’s rejection a small minded but eminently surmountable hurdle and so, unwilling to accept its decision, Giancarlo pressed on undeterred. He had to know if it was at least possible to bungee jump from the ancient bridge. If it wasn’t then, fair enough, his idea could be written off. However, if it was possible, he was ready to fight for what he considered to be the greatest opportunity for the community since the Romans had first built the bridge.
He rose early to a find a most unpromising sky and prepared for his feat. The idea of enlisting some help even as a safety precaution was out of the question.
From his vantage point up on the hillside Luigi watched. There was no point in trying to intervene. Experience had taught him that once Giancarlo had his mind set on something there was no going back. Even if that something would seriously injure or possibly kill him. A fool and his money may well be easily parted, a fool and his grand idea will not… xxx
Good morning Everybody! Happy May, well it was until someone switched the rain back on… I can’t imagine who would do that… A thirsty tree perhaps?
Anyway, be that as it may, I will pour the tea. I haven’t had time to bake this week so we’re back to the biscuit barrel. There are Rich Tea or Cow Biscuits, not at all fancy, sorry. But we can join the Little Houses at the table to see who has been up to what… More nefarious doings and hoodwinking, I’ve heard…
Living on the Edge 235; Justin the Nick…
When Belmarsh and Risley had asked Justin to drive them to their bank job, Justin had thought nothing of it and said, “Yes of course, what time?” Even when Risley replied, “midnight”, no alarm bells sounded…
But now as he hared across the countryside, breaking every speed limit and leaving everyone open-mouthed in his wake, he began to realise what he’d inadvertently stumbled into…
“Drive! Drive!” yelled an unhinged Belmarsh bumping across the dirt track …
Justin broke into a sweat as a siren began to wail in the distance… How could it be that he’d trusted these two? Bankers my eye! He’d often worried that, one day, he’d be imprisoned for a crime he didn’t commit and now, here it was coming at him like a bullet train… xxx
Oh dear…
Upcoming things…
This week the Little Houses have been organising themselves for a little trip. Getting them into boxes has been noisy, frustrating experience but they’re now safely taped in. I can still hear them though… They’re off to visit/annoy the lovely people at Llantarnam Grange in beautiful Wales. The exhibition is open May 18th 2024 until August 10th 2024.
My Open Studio is the weekend of June 15th/16th and June 29th/30th
Well, hello! I’ve been missing in action for which I apologise. It all started on April 5th when, as it was my birthday, I thought I’d have a day off… and then a number of scupperings, steam rollers and a chain of interruptions occurred …
Anyway, it’s all ok now and I’m back at the table, older and wiser, but not in any helpful way…
How are you? I have put out the tea things and I’ve made some orange and almond cake, do have a slice.
The Little Houses have been most disconcerted to be in the back seat for so long and they are bursting to tell you about the latest goings on…
Living on the Edge 232; Home Comforts…
“’Livia,” whispered Glen. “’Livia, I’m scared”
“Don’t be ridiculous!” retorted Olivia. “There’s absolutely nothing to be afraid of.” But as soon as the words were out, she felt a chill creep through her and she knew she’d not be able to keep up the pretence of bravery for much longer…
The initial idea had been a good one; next sunny day, let’s visit The Hollow with a picnic and enjoy exploring.
And, true to their word, when Sunday dawned like a lazy golden yawn stretching its arms to welcome them, they packed up a hamper and eagerly hurried out into the morning.
However, by the time they reached their destination, a thick mass of cloud had descended and an unpleasant cold, swirling wind was interrupting their fun. They were only at the outer edge of The Hollow and were near the crevice that formed its entrance but the swoosh of the birds’ wings as they circled and wove within was echoing eerily as if something was about to pluck them from the ground. Part of what was making the sound unnerving was, other than the noise of the wings, the lack of bird voices. Wait. Were they birds? Or bats? Olivia hated bats. Or were they something other? There were many ancient folklore stories about the place… Was there truth in them?
Ok,” said Olivia, beginning to feel nauseous at the building suspense, “I think we should leave.” And not waiting to find out what manner of creature had darted out from the crevice, they turned tail and hastily retreated. The picnic would taste just as good eaten in the safety of their own backyard… xxx
Hello Everybody, are you fine? I don’t know about you but I unconsciously wait for the Spring and then I’m always surprised when it really happens and all that underground potential suddenly bursts forth so vividly it just makes me smile a wide smile. Let’s have some tea and a biscuit or two whilst we chat…
I have some news to impart to you today… This year I will be joining in Suffolk Open Studios My studio will be open for the weekends of June 15th & 16th and June 29th & 30th so do pop in if you’re around. It’s a little way away yet but I thought I’d tell you now. The Little Houses are Spring cleaning… A very noisy affair indeed with much opportunity for altercations and indignation… Probably I should have kept it under my hat for a while longer. But the most inquisitive amongst them happened across the email trail…
Unless he gets a better offer, today’s share will be on display…
Living on the Edge 231; Self Centred…
Duane sat in the centre of the city in the full and confident knowledge that there, he was also centre of the universe. He towered proudly above everyone else – except for some of the trees, but he was in talks with the local tree surgeon to do something about that…
His wife, Linda, although still living with him, had long since given up believing that she was in any way part of his considerations. He would never consult her about anything, even the things she felt that she knew a little about. As a result, she tended not to involve herself at all, but instead observed; sometimes amused and bemused in equal measure.
Linda could hear the others griping on a daily basis about ‘His Lordship’ Duane and his constant demands and tirades. Unless they benefited him directly, in her opinion, he gave short shrift to their very reasonable requests. When they were of use to him, he would claim the ideas as his own and set about making them happen. He was oblivious and she was embarrassed for him. She really hoped they knew it wasn’t anything to do with her…
The trees knew. They heard everything and knew everything. Their roots stretched beneath the whole city; they knew every deep secret and unspoken longing. And so it was that, with a gentle whisper, the enormous old beech tree began suggesting to Linda how her life could be different. And how, if she could see her way to assisting in the disappearance of a certain tree surgeon, then a movement of certain roots, here and there, a movement of ancient plaza, a split in masonry… An irreparable rift could be arranged… A smile spread through Linda; life without ‘His Lordship’… What an appealing thought… xxx
