Month: August 2022
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Gasps of the past inform the present . . .
So I wasn’t sure I got much out of the writing workshop on Bank Holiday Monday — it felt rather more useful for beginning writers, and of course I fancy myself a bit with three years of writing group under my belt these days. But I was chatting about the day with our beloved neighbour,…
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Revelations of family history
Creativity is its own reward, I keep reminding myself. You don’t need accolades or praise if you’ve created something that the inner artist loves. Indeed, critical or adulatory feedback can obscure the joy for the creator, as somehow the piece of work moves out of their personal sphere into the realm of the other audience.…
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Writing Workshop Day
But London is rather a long way to travel for a writing workshop day. Instead I’m heading off to Hexham this morning, a short distance of only 17 miles, to participate in a Bank Holiday Monday writing day under the auspices of Claire Lynn, who has been tutor and mentor for writing groups for many…
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Family fun and frolics
Families are arriving for a big celebration today here in Sparty. We’ve got the lawns mowed (some rather better than others!), hot tub fired up, food gathered in, and the Elf Hole is stocked and ready for a series of prolonged chats. The bartender has his best convivial manner in play, and expects to listen,…
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Joys of a quiet valley
Early in the morning, in the peaceful quietude of the valley where the Eastern Allen runs, it’s so good to be able to appreciate the softness. Not that life is easy, up here on the high fellsides. There are plenty of rigours that keep families scratching, and more to come as the cost of heating…
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Open-eyed wonder
Native to North America, the brown-headed cowbird (so named for its distinctive brown head, of course, and its habit of following bison herds when they were grazing across the great American plains) has recently been seen in the UK. Surely, however, an eager cowbird male would not casually travel to our garden to find a…
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Real good rain
I read a column the other day decrying our obsession with bright sunny days as ‘good’ . . . and dark rainy ones as, well, as something to be endured. But in this summer of extensive drought, and with climate harbingers sounding ever more doom-laden, real good rain is something to be cheered, surely, the…
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The joy of setting up
Today I get to help out with setting up for a regular weekly function. We’re not really settled in the new village yet, but we’re trying to be quiet helpers. Come winter, when the energy bills will really bite, we’ll probably spend most of our time here in New Galloway, but for now we’re still…
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Forsaking indolence . . .
Although some writing has flowed through my dancing fingers lately, I’ve been aware that indolence has crept up upon me and my daily discipline is suffering. So it was with some delight that I finally grappled with three fulsome critiques of my latest novel effort, and discovered that there’s really rather a lot of work…
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Never too late . . .
A decade ago, though it seems a lifetime hence, we made a return visit to Sicily. Our mission, should we choose to accept it, was to find the final resting place of a daughter of Northumberland, Florence Trevelyan, whose life had intrigued us when we encountered her bust in the public gardens of Taormina. Now…
Roads to Joy 