‘don’t let your dreams die, while you are still alive’

…that quote is by some philosopher or other called DJ Kyos. I don’t know who he is and really the quote has nothing to do with the rubbish I am about to write – but I do like it. So here goes, more wafflings from an ordinary life.

What with all the hoohaa about Brexit and no one knowing what’s going on, or what may or may not happen to Britain in the future, and the instability in the £, and whether or not I should become a french citizen, and whether or not it will stop raining before dark so I can take the dog for a walk….then really its only dreams that seem real and so he’s right, they shouldn’t be allowed to die..

And yes it is raining and so look what I achieved this morning…img_0699

A vey neat and tidy drawer.

Oh what a sad person I can hear you all shouting at my tidily placed and colour coded underwear.

My excuse is – apart from the fact that I felt like doing it and it is very therapeutic, well sort of…my excuse is – it was raining – and I haven’t got a single idea in my head for a poem or a story…I am so good at excuses – maybe I could write a book on ‘the excuses I have used for NOT writing.’

What a wonderful holiday we have just had in the UK seeing the family and friends.

Tarn Hows –  where we went to The Drunken Duck pub for lunch with a cousin, and the beach at Bridlington in the late afternoon sun, where we went for a walk with the dog.

We went to the theatre – being an expat, immigrant – call it what you will – has lots to commend it – but oh it is so wonderful to enjoy an evening of live performance. This was an excellent production of Rudyard Kipling’s ‘The Man who would be King.’It was good to catch up with our friends too – although we could have so easily not got there in time due to us country bumpkins not being used to the big city traffic; something called ‘The Loop,’ the left hand drive car on British roads, and just generally always being in the wrong lane.

Well worth it though, and thanks m’dear, for organising it.

And I went with one daughter to see Louden Wainwright  – so a night of live music too.

What a great time – not to mention lunch with some old work colleagues, being with  the daughters and grandchildren, and some friends I hadn’t seen for years…and oh yes, a little bit of retail therapy…

Back to the calm tranquility of the cottage, speaking french, the odd tractor passing now and then, home made parsnip soup and…


…crocheting leaves.


Because a daughter asked for some. I can crochet granny squares, only granny squares, like my mother before me – I’ve been a knitter all my life – leaves –  this is a whole new ballgame. Always up for a challenge, that’s me…if you believe that…

Its always nice to feel you might be still useful in old age – himself will be wood turning Harry Potter type wands for the very same reason – and yes we do enjoy it.

And now its Autumn


There’s plenty of bracken around here


…and does this mean its going to be a harsh winter?

My quote for this week is from Johann Wolfgang von Goethe born in 1749 – another one you all probably know – but yet again, another one I like…

One ought, every day at least, to hear a little song, read a good poem, see a fine picture,and if it were possible, to speak a few reasonable words.’

I’m off to read a poem – ‘The Water Mill’ by Sarah Doudney – as good a place to start as any.

I have a mind to learn it off by heart so if I ever wasn’t able to see the words I could say it to myself in my dotage.

Onwards, readers of my rubbish – there’s a poem to be read out there.