Love, loss, nakedness and sparkles.

I had lunch a couple of days ago with the 15year old daughter of my best friend who passed away 6 months ago. I cannot express how precious this was. It was just the two of us and we were able to talk about her mother and laugh about shared memories and also shed a few tears. The thing is, I remember when this girl was born, how perfectly formed she was, and how proud her mother was. I was stunned by the beauty of both mother and child in their newly formed but somehow eternal, relationship. And now here we were, 15 years later, sitting at a table in a restaurant, still reeling from a terrible terrible loss, and realising that the precious relationship I had with her mother was continuing, but had developed a newly blossomed bud which will flower with each passing season.




I went to a life drawing class! I hadn't been to one in years and years. I loved it! I had to get  over the ridiculous urge to giggle uncontrollably with embarassment at the sight of a naked person and had to remind myself several times that I am actually a grown up. ..and then I started to relax. What was interesting was the arrival of my inner critic, "You can't draw, this is rubbish, everyone's pictures are better than yours, you're too tired to do this, time to go home now"...etc etc.  I'm so used to this with songwriting or singing, but hadn't expected to listen to this voice whilst drawing with friends. I realised that the artistic process is the same, even though the genres and contexts are different. I realised the importance of letting go of perfectionism and ignoring the critic on my shoulder, and enjoying the process rather than the end result. There is value even in the unfinished product. We did an exercise where we only had a minute to draw the model in a series of poses. I found this really frustrating at first because I wanted to draw the perfect picture, but looking back now at those hurried charcoal scribbles, they have value in their own right, because they tell the story of my struggle... so more drawing classes methinks...

Last but not least, my daughter was given a pair of sparkly red shoes by a friend who has outgrown them.  My daughter loves these shoes with a passion that only those who love shoes will understand. She wears them everywhere and has even clicked her heels and hoped for something magical to happen, like Dorothy in the "Wizard of Oz"!






Anyway a gift so bright and sparkly deserved a bright and colourful card to say Thankyou!

Love and joy round the kitchen table...making love cakes.

Earlier this year, myself, a couple of friends, and my beautiful daughters, decided it would be nice to meet and spend time with each other doing something creative. So I thought it would be nice to make 'lovecakes'. We decorated heart shaped almond and chocolate cakes to give as gifts for Valentine's day. We drank wine (thoughtfully provided by my hubby)(the kids drank juice!) we chatted and laughed and had moments of silence when we were completely engrossed in the task at hand. It was a wonderful time and I thought I'd share some photos of the fruits of our labours.

So if you fancy giving the gift of a love cake, find a cake recipe that you like, make heart shaped cakes by pouring the cake mix into heart shaped cases. You can actually buy heart shaped cupcake tins or silicone ones, from a cake decorating shop. Decorate the cakes with fondant (ready to roll) icing, sprinkles, sugar roses or whatever takes your fancy, and spread the love! xxx

Watching the world go round, ..Observations at the Launderette

I found myself at the launderette this morning because I had to wash some sofa covers that were too big for my washing machine at home. I found the experience very therapeutic. There is something levelling about a launderette, everyone who walks in has the same thing in common, we are here to do washing and we need to be here to do it.

I found the sense of community comforting, as well as the monotony of sitting and watching the washing go round, and the world go by outside. I had to be there for that forty minutes it would take to complete my wash, and in that set time there were riches to be found.

I observed a young man walk in, utterly terrified and at a loss of what to do, he seemed like a young student who was away from home for the first time. He was helped by an older woman, who seemed to be a regular. She showed him which machine to use and where to put the money in. She smiled at me and wished me well on her way out. In the middle of a bustling city, there are people like this lady who quietly go about their business and bring comfort and reassurance in the littlest of ways. It was so interesting to watch people first come in, floundering, not knowing how things worked, and then watch them figure it all out, and then settle in for the duration. Here we all were, literally airing our dirty laundry in public, some surreptitiously, and others taking their time, folding each garment thoroughly before putting it away. As I sat and watched my machine finish its spin cycle, I felt myself return. The world seemed safer and more ordered somehow and I returned home with optimism and renewed hope.