17.02.12

I’ve been asking myself lately, can you be a writer when you spend the majority of your time inside your own four walls? are you going to find anything interesting to say, anything that pulls readers in and makes them want to come back again and again? do you have a story to tell???


My life is, by necessity, very quiet and mostly solitary. I live in a remote village. I don’t drive, so excursions tend to be few and far between. This is my choice – I’m not complaining, I love my home and my lifestyle. But when I read the stories on other blogs, and see photographs of beautiful places and noteworthy events, or read about family life, socialising, celebrations, travel, achievements, and so on, I do wonder. Is my life too dull to interest anyone else? Am I too dull?


There’s no doubt about it, the more you do, the more you see, the more you have to talk about, the more to show. I sometimes think, if I lived in a big city, I would have so many things to photograph, so many opportunities, so many stories nudging in on me every day. If you live a gently same-old life, you have to dig a lot deeper to find beauty and interest. It’s possible – but harder. More challenging.

But just look at writers like the Brontes, or Emily Dickinson. Quietly domestic, cut off from the world, restricted in body, yet world-roaming in soul, and creators of poetry and beauty and fire and passion. Their writings are, perhaps, the more compelling because of the contrast between them and the women behind them. I wonder if things would have been different if these women had lived more traditional lives: married, had children, run a home, moved in Society, travelled, etc. Perhaps their creative genius would have found outlet in more conventional ways, and we would be the poorer for it.

After all, each of us have a rich and extensive landscape inside of us, waiting to be explored and mapped out. Perhaps living a very quiet solitary life gives you more of an opportunity to do that. And more incentive too. For when you are dreaming dreams, telling stories, allowing your heart to speak to you and through you, you can never be alone, or isolated, or empty, or unfulfilled.

Two’s Company, Three’s Even Better

On a very dark & rainy day, it’s nice to have company. 

Pip is like a little dog – wherever I go, he goes. He will curl up and sleep in the most uncomfortable places, just to be with me. And where he goes, Squeak follows. When I work in the yarn room, I have to bring a big cushion for them, so they have somewhere comfortable to nap. It’s cozy in there today, with the three of us, music playing, candles flickering.

Cat Report

Look at these handsome fellas. I’m in a running battle with them for my chair. They want it. I want it. The minute I get up for tea or the phone or to light a candle, they nip out from wherever they have been hiding, and take it. I gently suggest that the back of the chair is soft and comfy and big enough for a nap – they say, go on then, take it, but we’re staying put right HERE.

Squeak is so leggy and elegant and skittish. He stays thin by sheer nerves.

Pip is……….. tubby. His leg to body ratio is not in his favour. He hasn’t got Squeak’s hungry leanness. He is round and solid and cuddlesome. He spends most of the day trying to get on my chest, while I work on the laptop, in MY chair. As well as squashing the breath out of my lungs, this entails a supporting hand, holding him up off the laptop keyboard. He weighs 15 lbs. This is not sustainable. I usually manage 5 suffocating minutes before pushing him off. My keyboard is permanently full of cat hair. As is my bosom.

 Of course, today they get what they want. I have a fever of 101, I am in bed (and I hate being in bed in the day, so that shows you how sick I am). They have full posession of the chair.

Which means that they are sitting on my chest in bed instead.

Squeaky

This week is all higgledy piggledy. On Saturday one of my best friends gets married, and I’m one of the bridesmaids. Tonight it’s her farewell dinner with the girls, and I’ve promised to bake cupcakes. Gulp. I’ve never made cupcakes, and never done any icing. I hope it goes well.

I’m not sure how much blogging there’ll be this week, so for now I’ll leave you with a handsome fella to gaze at, my boy Squeak.

Late

What with Bank Holiday Monday, the delayed sale, and one thing and another, I’m running a bit late this week with the previews. Hopefully there’ll be something up by tomorrow. In the meantime, don’t you wish you were a cat???