I caved in. Because I’m weak. I had to pop into Waterstone’s to get a new book for No 3… and that was it, my resolve of reading books in alphabetical order by author (and from my pile!!) vanished as soon as the smell of printed paper touched my nostrils. (horrible word ‘nostrils) Anyway, I’ve …

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My sewing mojo is back. My sewing mojo is back helped enormously by my gorgeous serger that had been hibernating since the move, ahem, almost two years ago. Whilst I won’t tell you how long it took me to re-thread it or the choice language that was used at various times (for a while I …

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… I realise it sounds a little bit “oxymoronish”… but if you do live in England you understand… right? “Summer” is often an “idea” more than reality… which is ok, there are other benefits… like you never wear out your sandals for example (they last for years….), and sometimes you do need a light snood …

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The best time of the day (by Raymond Carver) Cool summer nights. Windows open. Lamps burning. Fruit in the bowl. And your head on my shoulder. These the happiest moments in the day. Next to the early morning hours, of course. And the time just before lunch. And the afternoon, and early evening hours. But …

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Invictus (by William Ernest Henley) Out of the night which covers me, Black as the pit from pole to pole, I thank whatever gods may be For my unconquerable soul. In the fell clutch of circumstance I have not winced nor cried aloud. Under the bludgeoning of chance My head is bloody, but unbowed. Beyond …

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There are a few things I don’t like about motherhood… and I’m not talking about the lost nights or the endless driving kids around, or the unavoidable nagging… or the mountains of laundry… no, it’s getting up in the morning and having to hand out punishments wishing 45 seconds from getting out of bed.   …

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This World (by Mary Oliver) I would like to write a poem about the world that has in it nothing fancy. But it seems impossible. Whatever the subject, the morning sun glimmers it. The tulip feels the heat and flaps its petals open and becomes a star. The ants bore into the peony bud and …

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