Bloomsbury, elephants and ice cream


Choice is a good thing, they say, and I agree. But then, they also say it’s possible to have too much of a good thing, and I think there are times when there might be something in this. Unless we’re talking about love, compassion, understanding… little things like that. Or ice cream. You can NEVER have too much ice cream, even in January, outside, when it’s raining. And who the heck are ‘they’, anyway? Continue reading

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The Venerable Bead

It’s starting to dawn on me that I can’t do everything at once. Or is it? Sometimes it’s hard to tell. But there are so many things I want to do, dammit, and where on earth is all the time going anyway? OK, so procrastination is the thief of time and I have been very tired of late, it’s true – so perhaps not quite as gung ho as I’d like to be – but I haven’t really been procrastinating that badly. Which more or less rules procrastination out as a suspect. And, even if it didn’t, surely procrastination was locked up long ago for previous offences. So where is all the time disappearing off to?*

Yes, I know, what am I going on about (you see, the currently-in-limbo fussball table has addled my poor brain)? Well, this, if you must know:

Beady temptation.

Beady temptation.

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The death of the moth and other unfortunate necessities

I like most living things. OK, so I’m slightly scared of spiders, I wouldn’t particularly appreciate a close encounter with a snake or a crocodile, and I hear grizzly bears can be a bit intimidating. And some humans are simply vile.* But generally speaking, live and let live, that’s what I say. Unless you happen to be a clothes moth, in which case, as of this week, I’m ‘unfriending’ you.** Why? Well, I’ll tell you…
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Crowing about crochet

Here’s the thing, then: I’m learning to crochet. I’d wanted to find out more ever since I saw a kit for a sweet crocheted sheep in the ever-glorious Fringe and then, as luck would have it, it turned out that Fringe were running a beginner’s crochet workshop in April. Splendid, I thought, and booked myself a place. Continue reading

Cinnamon Bear Pair

So, it would appear that Cinnamon Bear is a fan of Uncle Neil. Clearly a bear with a musical ear and very good taste, then. Not that I doubted it for a second. Cinnamon Bear has also, it seems, been chatting to Colin the Robin, because – as I predicted – he suggested I might like to make him a female companion. Luckily, I was one step ahead of him:

Cinnamon Boy meets Cinnamon Girl.

Cinnamon Boy meets Cinnamon Girl.

Yes, thanks to my lovely little Cinnamon Bear kit from the ever-wonderful Fringe, we now have two little bears to try to save from the incorrigible clutches of the Feline Detectives, which – as we know from Colin’s brush with death – is no mean feat.

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Colin the Robin and the brush with death

We honestly did think, on the arrival of the Feline Detectives, that we’d cat-proofed the house. Ha ha ha. No. We hadn’t. Apart from plant-gate, where McCready got an upset tummy from chewing on what we have since discovered to be a plant best not consumed by felines and which resulted in the removal of all such foliage from the joint (as in domicile, not weed), both McCready and Gilmour are prone, let’s say, to collecting things. With McCready, it seems mainly to be yarn, usually my more expensive stuff (mental note: must hide yarn); Gilmour is a bit more eclectic in his selection and even the plug from the bath has been found amongst his stash of toy mice. Yes, really.

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