Tuesday, November 25, 2025

Right paper, bin night and correspondence.

1. I have just the right paper -- tiny Japanese pages, not much larger than business cards, printed with wisteria in full bloom.

2. Bin night is a tedious chore, but the house always feels lighter with the rubbish chased out of the door.

3. I have leisure this evening to start writing a reply to an email.

Monday, November 24, 2025

Wood warmth, slope and list.

1. It is a cold day with sneaking drizzle, but drifts of orange and yellow leaves bring bright heat to the woods.

2. The swish of Bettany turning in at the bottom of the ski slope.

3. Nick reminds me to add everyone's favourite biscuits to the shopping order.

Friday, November 21, 2025

Waiting in the library, ice and dirty colours.

1. I have to wait in the library for a few minutes and find myself flittering among the shelves snapping pics of books that I might like to borrow but will probably forget about.

2. We are nearly fifteen and not far off fifty, but we still stop to crack an icy puddle in the park.

3. I am struck by how much I like the ink in the pen I'm using. It's a Stabilo fineliner 88/62 called grey violet, and honestly, these dirty colours -- the drabs, the greys, the kharkis and the ochres are underloved in a world of brights.

Thursday, November 20, 2025

Snowfall, badger and hot chocolate.

1. I open the front door to take a parcel and am surprised by wet snow falling in rags and tufts.

2. A badger has given the edges of the paths in the park a working over, turning the soil and tearing up the grass in search of worms. It must be frustrating for the groundsmen; but I like knowing there's a badger or two about.

3. It's a cold, cold morning -- just right for serving hot chocolate.

Wednesday, November 19, 2025

Tea, words and supper.

1. The hot cup of tea waiting for me on the breakfast table.

2. My words aren't coming easily today, and I can't feel confident about anything I'm writing. But I try anyway. As long as I aim for clarity, stick to the sources and remember the reader, it will do. There will always be some days when good enough is good enough.

3. A bag of chips on the supper table.


Tuesday, November 18, 2025

Cold, sky and Leonids.

1. The weather has changed and the cold is like a smack in the face.

2. I stop on our hill to compare the sky with my astronomy app. End up marvelling and gossiping about celestial matters with my neighbour and a passer-by.

3. I glance up as I lift the bin and a shooting star falls down the southern sky.

Monday, November 17, 2025

Breakfast, drift and pour.

1. I start to say no because I've already eaten breakfast and I don't want the work of cooking French toast for everyone else -- but that's not what is being asked. 

2. Day off. I drift between a memoir and a historical novel and a needlework project, half listening to the children's priorities: space ship insurance, a Ralph Lauren hoodie on Vinted, that brand of cola, what one might wear for a funeral.

3. I pour us wine right up to the lozenges at the top of the cut glass pattern.

Right paper, bin night and correspondence.

1. I have just the right paper -- tiny Japanese pages, not much larger than business cards, printed with wisteria in full bloom. 2. Bin nigh...