love, India

notes from the armchair

spring has sprung, the grass is riz

Hello me dears spring has sprung and that means I've been frolicking in puddles, beaming over blossoms and cutting mountains of sandwiches for shearers. In between I managed to answer a few questions for ArternetArt. You can hop to the story here if you like. I have also been purring over the...

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where does the time go?

I blinked and suddenly nearly two months have whizzed by in the flashes of the flashes. In May I went on a glorious road trip with a very dear friend. It was the first time I had been away from home (other than overnight visits to the seaside) since I had returned from India in February last...

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being(t)here2021

It has been a slightly slower process than I anticipated, but the shed-refurbish-into-studio is very close to done. I will confess the space is so lovely without stuff that I am very tempted simply to move my bed into it and hibernate indefinitely! But that is not what is going to...

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marching on

The mornings are colder now and the first few leaves have begun to turn. I love this season, it's so beautiful to walk among sparkling dewdrops on the grass as the sun rises. Diamonds on the soles of my shoes... This year I won in the possum vs peach battle, at least in my late mother's garden...

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goodness me

this has been an extraordinary week. the first pair of twinsies in the living memory of my family arrived in the whirled on Monday, and suddenly everything changed. it means I am behind on editing the video of 'quiet conversations', and in creating the online exhibition...the twinsies were...

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progress

I'm pinching myself because I cannot really quite believe that I managed it. I cleared the shed, except for two pieces of furniture that couldn't be stored elsewhere, and will be staying in place anyways. (One of them is the flagship armchair from which I sail my school.) My parents had...

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some anniversaries

"Aujourd'hui Maman est morte"...I was reminded of the opening line of Camus' L'Etranger on the Tuesday of this week (it's etched into my mind as it was the required study text in a high school French class some 46 years ago), the fourth anniversary of my mother's death. I was away teaching...

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the miraculous quotidian

One of my oldest friends (with whom I shared a house in 1986) used to call me Polly. Short for Pollyanna. Because way back then, my attitude to life was very much that of Pollyanna, the cheerfully optimistic character brought to life by Eleanor H.Porter in 1913. I think I had gradually lost a...

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stepping into the light

hello, friends. For years and years I kept a blog (over at http://prophet-of-bloom.blogspot.com ). It was an amusing means of sharing stories and engaging in conversations with readers...until blogger made it impossible for me to comment or reply. So here I am, adding a blog to the School of...

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