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Living on the Edge 152; Holey Heaven…

Well good morning Everybody. How has your week gone? Over on the table the air has been blue and thick with angst, not unusual I’m afraid. But you know the little houses; never ones to make do with a molehill when a mountain can be made… I shall share the shenanigans with you and wish you a truly beautiful weekend…

Living on the Edge 152; Holey Heaven…

Prue had spent pretty much all day up a ladder swearing into the ether. She’d been tidying the topiary; a bi-annual task that always irritated her. To be fair to her she always did a very good job but it left Holly wondering if the shower of abuse raining down on her from dawn till dusk and beyond was worth it. She’d have happily left the trees to their own devices.

The other problem was that the wild swinging and snipping of Prue’s long-reach secateurs left perforations in the sky where she missed the trees that no expletives could fill.Despite the profanity, as the daylight faded to an inky blue, the moon decided it was safe to rise. And then, as if by magic, the holes began to look like tiny stars.

“Perhaps I’m getting a glimpse of heaven” said Holly aloud gazing skywards but was pulled back to reality with a jolt as Prue tripped over a fallen branch and found several more choice words… xxx

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Living on the Edge; Work in Progress…

Good afternoon Everybody. Here’s Friday again. I could swear that there have been days missed out of this week. You never know I may well find them somewhere on the table under all the mess. If I do I will let you know as they’d probably be of use to you as well…

Anyway, this week I report that there has been panic in the unbuilt streets. If there is one thing the little houses fear more than water it is fire. And for some unknown reason a red dragon appeared on the table and struck fear into the hearths of every paper building. His name was Ethelbert. He was looking for St. David’s Day and was exceedingly angry when he was told he’d missed it by a few months. How does one pacify a dragon? There were plumes of smoke issuing from both his nostrils and Shirl, who we’ll hear more from another day, said there was no smoke without fire setting the wheels of terror and trembling in motion.

I managed to calm matters by advising him that, if he put his skates on, he could possibly be in the US and through quarantine procedures for National Toasted Marshmallow Day (yes that’s a thing) on August 30th. This appeared to interest him greatly. And he left. Disaster averted. For now. If you are in the US and you come across Ethelbert, don’t make him angry. You wouldn’t like him when he’s angry… xxx

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Living on the Edge 149; Blue Moon

Good morning Everybody. How have you been doing this week? I have been working on secret things, which I will tell you about as soon as I can, whilst trying not to overhear a summit meeting that was taking place on the table. But over hearing all the same. Well, if they will raise their voices… I’m going to share it with you. But if anyone asks, it didn’t come from me. Ok?

Living on the Edge 149; Blue Moon…

Keith’s patience was beginning to wear thin. He was trying to finalise next year’s calendar.

“Come on,” he said, his exasperation showing, “ it’s not difficult. Where will you be on the 28th of June? And, will you be full or on the wane?”

The Moon thumbed through her diary in a distracted manner.

“Well, it’s hard to say,” she mumbled. “Let me speak to the sea and I’ll get back to you. Also I’m not sure what time the sun will be getting up that day.” Keith wasn’t alone in his exasperation.

The sea was only half listening. He was sorting through his pebbles and murmuring to himself about sea glass and litter. He wasn’t interested in next year. Not yet. He had summer holidays to plan and an oil slick to worry about. He rolled, turned and said “I’m going out.”…

“Typical.” said Keith and called an immediate halt to the meeting. “You lot can sort it out between yourselves, I’m not bothered what you decide. Just let me know when you come to a decision.” and off he flounced.

The moon looked at the sun and the wet sand where the sea had been and sighed wishing that for just once she didn’t have to give prior notice to all and sundry about what she was up to. Every. Single. Day… xxx

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Living on the Edge 138; Backwaters

Oh hello Everybody, are you there? I have been melting this week; I am not a hot weather person. I’m happy for any of you that are but give me a stiff breeze, sleeves and cup of tea over swelter, spaghetti straps and iced mocktails any day. How very English of me to be harping on about the weather. Back to matters in hand…

Recently I completed a commission: Living on the Edge 138; Backwaters. The little houses were very peaceful and happy to oblige throughout the building stages, nobody got ratty or clumsy. In fact, you might have thought the patron saint of paper houses was presiding over proceedings. That was until it came to logistics whereby the saint curtly bade us goodbye and a mischievous goblin took over the reins. It is a long and curly tale that involved a place named Guist, not a small amount of stress and a trip to the Post Office the next day where we finally managed to part company. I have since received word that they are all safe and well and so they can hopefully return to their harmonious existence …

Have a lovely weekend and I hope your happy temperature finds you… xxx

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A Return Visit to Delft Street…

Well good afternoon Everybody. What’s happening over your way today? All is quiet here as most of the little houses have left the building on their various travels. A bit of peace and quiet. Good said I.

This means there’s been time to make a little something for a lovely friend of mine. I met her at art college back when there were £1 notes and spiral perms were a thing (are they back again now?) She grew up to be an illustrator, go have a look, she is here, over on Instagram – her work is beautiful. And if I grow up I will let you know. I went back to the wooden houses for this one…

A tiny little house from a tiny little street named Delft Street…

At 29 Delft Street we find Brigitta Bruin; a much loved illustrator. Her drawings have delighted children and adults alike for years. When she is asked where she finds her inspiration she replies“Why, I simply leave the house without my spectacles…” And that is how dear Brigitta sees magical things. Just this morning, instead of trees and a washing line she saw two giraffes dancing with a peacock… xxx

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Living on the Edge 147; the Waiters…

Hello Everybody, are you fine? Well, there’s been a right old brouhaha over on Instagram this week. I don’t really know what to say except that I will still be here sending out still pictures and maybe the occasional moving one, if it’s appropriate. I hope you will come and find me if I don’t appear. But there will be no dancing cats with paper houses on their heads. The houses would simply not stand for that kind of thing. I know that without asking them.

Anyway you can always sign up to receive my weekly post straight into your email inbox (over to the right of this post) to avoid missing the latest. So in order to smooth our ruffled feathers here is Living on the Edge 147; the Waiters…

Chester had been waiting in line so long that, to be honest, he had forgotten what he was waiting for. But it had come to not bother him. He was perfectly happy standing in the queue talking with his neighbours. The gentle chit chat, shooting the breeze and generally watching the world and its doings pass by had turned into a very pleasant life. And Chester loved his waiting companions.

There was Guy, next door; a copywriter for an advertising company who enjoyed nothing better than a glass of wine and a long, winding conversation about this and that. Next Jilly, up the way, was a translator for a small packaging company and always full of interesting anecdotes. Carl, who was first or last in the line (though no one knew which anymore), had a passion for baking and frequently tested his recipes out in the line. Juno, noble Juno and possibly the eldest, had long ago hypothesised that, perhaps, once, they’d been waiting for the perfect moment but that it no longer mattered because life was happening anyway and it seemed pretty perfect just as it was. At that moment, Carl’s tray of chai buns was proffered to all and, as he breathed in the warming spices, Chester sensed that life was indeed perfect…

Have a lovely, calming weekend xxx

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Travel Preparations…

Good morning Everybody. It’s been a busy week, how have you been? There is a great excitement on the table today as this gang prepare themselves to travel to the beautiful Ferrers Gallery (Staunton Harold, Ashby de la Zouche, if you’re in the area) to be in ‘Coastal Contours’ July 9th – September 26th 2021. There has been counting, tidying, a checking of labels and a register has been taken. All are present and correct and almost ready to depart.

Except. And you knew there would be an except didn’t you? And here it is… the dome has announced that she won’t have a bath. She doesn’t think it’s fair as no-one else has to. I’m now trying to reason with her and explain about paper and water… I think what lies at the heart of the problem is fear. She is afraid of slipping. Not an unreasonable fear but, as the tower of houses she protects pointed out, if she’s not looking her best then neither can he… xxx

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A Little Chat…

Hello Everybody. Are you fine? I mentioned in Friday’s post that I would give more details of an Instagram Live I’m doing. Well… It’s tomorrow Tuesday June 22nd at 11am, UK time, with the lovely Sarah James over on @craftfestival The little houses have promised to behave… Would you like to bring a cup of tea and join us? And probably a biscuit… xxx

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Living on the Edge 146; Oh For the Wings of a Dove…

Hello Everybody. What are you up to? Here the rains have come and are merrily hammering on the window and more high drama has erupted over in the corner of the table. I’m trying to ignore it because I have other fish to fry as it were. But you know the little houses; if they can drag everyone else in on their doings they will…

Sometimes, when I write these tales, I have a voice in my mind narrating it. Today’s would ideally be read by the fabulous Sarah James of www.findamaker.co.uk (https://www.instagram.com/find.amaker/) who I will be talking to on an Instagram Live on Tuesday next week if all goes to plan (a bit/very nervous about that if I’m honest but there we go. Details to follow soon…)

Anyway back to today’s troubles… Living on the Edge 146; Oh For the Wings of a Dove…

There had been a cliff top choir in the tiny village of Llanclogwyn since history had begun. Over the years it had waxed and waned as the population numbers rose and fell but, currently, every family had at least one member. Their music rang out across the sea and, if the wind was in the right direction, sailors sometimes claimed to hear the lure of mermaids.

The choir had been rehearsing for their concert, ‘Songs of the Sea’ for a few months now and were almost ready for a public performance. But. Somewhere in the mid reaches somebody was off-key. Everybody knew who it was but nobody wanted to say anything because she was very nice and always made the best cakes to bring to practice.During choir practice that week though, the decision was taken out of their hands by a usually very non-confrontational dove who had had enough of the cacophony and had decided to act. Fortunately, she, who will remain nameless, was elated. She had taken the dove’s intervention as evidence of having been singled out for special treatment, which, she had been. In a way… xxx

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Living on the Edge 145; the Weight of the World…

¡Hola Everybody! As we’re not allowed to travel at the moment I thought I’d give my greeting the flavour of being abroad and use a tiny bit of the Spanish I learned at school. I hope Señora Lansley would be proud. I even found the upside down exclamation mark!

When working with these little paper houses the key, I find, always, is cooperation; if I can get them onside early on then life is a lot easier. An enormous amount of cooperation was necessary in order to make today’s share. In the second picture you can see a quick snap of us hanging out backstage whilst waiting, a long time, for the chimney fitter. You’ll see some of them became so bored that they fell over. But no one had a strop and there was a lovely sense of working together towards the greater good… Living on the Edge 145; the Weight of the World…

Penny was not given to exaggeration but lately her share of the pie was feeling more and more onerous. And it wasn’t a fabulous cherry pie that one might go back for a second helping of. It was a heavy, stodgy pie that tasted of over-baked socks . She had dealt with the phone company and the bank, the doctor and the middle child’s school, the internet and the plumbing along with a multitude of other annoyances that she didn’t have space to remember.

But today, she decided that enough was enough. Before she was squashed flat by the sheer weight of it all, she would have to start letting things go…