I still haven’t worked out what to do when I grow up! I’m mainly a writer, an artist, and a fairytale dressmaker with various crafty hobbies! Here (and on YouTube) I share bits of my life, thoughts, and what I’m learning along the way. Let’s find magic and inspiration; join me for this creative living adventure!

 

00

The Many Expressions of our dog, Ziggy.

owning an english mastiff

It’s 2am and I can’t sleep. Yesterday – well day before yesterday I suppose – morning our beloved dog Ziggy died suddenly of a heart attack while he was happily running up the hill towards us. To help me deal with the grief, I have just written this…

 

The happy, but slightly demanding look on his face when he’d sit, pushing his back to you with his head in the air wanting a fuss.

The child-like guilty expression when I’ve come home unexpectedly and caught him lying on my side of the settee.

The daft, but annoying grin he had when he got over-excited about MacDonalds.

The absolute love and adoration in his eyes with his cuddles with Chris.

The funny sideways, but not-quite-looking-at-you looks he’d do when he was watching what you were up to – if he was suspicious you were going out or going to the kitchen to get chocolate.

The way he’s prick his ears up and look interested and curious when he wanted to play with the cats, but wasn’t sure how to.

The smug looks he gave me when I’d told him not to do something, but Chris had given in – usually getting on the settee when he smelled.

The puzzled, but disgusted looks he’d turn round and give his bum when he’s done a particularly potent fart that had disturbed him.

His generally happy, and very handsome expression he’d have most of the time – especially when he had his family all together.

Musings and ramblings, Writing,
00no comment

Other posts you may like:

frozen lake
A slow January
January 31, 2022
I just made it to the New Year, and then I got very ill indeed. It was nothing more serious than a fluey cold, but oh my god, I don’t remember the last time I felt that ill! I had hot flushes and chills (they were multiplying) and couldn’t breath lying down, so three nights of trying to sleep upright in the settee downstairs left me extra tired too. Anyway, the upshot is, even if I’d wanted to run into 2022 full steam ahead, I simply couldn’t. I was kind-of forced into a slow January…
Worbarrow bay
Poetry for ease of lockdown
May 18, 2021
Dance of the Butterflies A semi-circle bay of liquid turquoise as still as a deep secret and barely a sound as the languid waves touched the pebbled beach. It was so much warmer than expected; unneeded layers draped over our arms. Merlin panting; concerning us for lack of fresh water until we found a Jurassic filtered stream. All of us excited for his first trip to the sea All of us excited for our first day to be free. I’d only thought yesterday I was yet to see a butterfly, but as we walked the stony track to the car we saw a pair of them, unidentifiable by their urgency. Enchanted by each others’ spirit they were trapped in their frenzied jive of spring. Unable to leave each other, or to leave the dance Unable to be completely released; unable to take the chance.   Whispers of the Stones Imagining recollections of the lives of here The way they felt; the joy, the fear The mundane, their day to day The colours of spring, the winter grey The salty breezes absorbed in their bones Their secrets and memories whispered by the stones   I’ve started an art journal! And these are the words I wrote to go with the mixed media art I came up with. It was all inspired by the first time we were allowed to leave the house for actual fun! We went to Tyneham Village – an abandoned place where everyone was evacuated for the Second World War, and weren’t allowed back. A short walk from there is Worbarrow Bay; and with the sun shining, the sea really did look turquoise. If you’d like to see our day out, I have started back on YouTube again, and it’s in this week’s video:

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

Instagram did not return a 200.