Footscray meadow frolicking

Spring would appear to be just around the corner. Today’s sunshine felt almost warm and, if you look closely enough, there are traces of a green fuzz on the trees. Or maybe that’s wishful thinking. 

Anyway, it’s half term and as I had no music school commitments for a change, I accompanied the boys on their walk to Footscray Meadow. They seemed very happy today and enjoyed a good run about. It was a good opportunity to find out about the rapid shooting capabilities of my new camera. It takes dozens of pictures in a second so you never miss the perfect action shot. The trouble is that you have to sort through hundreds of shots to find the perfect frames. Here are a few of them. 

Every time

Every Time We Say Goodbye

by Ella Fitzgerald

This afternoon my lovely Boywonder flies back to Montreal for his new university semester and, because he is required to take extra elective subjects, he won't be back until June. It's the longest he's been away from home and I shall miss him hugely. I've been trying to put this to the back of my mind all through his 18 days with us and I'm not taking him to the airport but I am finding it almost impossible to cope with at the moment.

When I was the Boywonder's age - he'll celebrate his 21st birthday in Canada in a few weeks' time - I was never homesick. To my subsequent shame, I didn't ever look back, and when I was at home, I longed to be away but he is much more of a homebody and I think he's finding it hard too. I'm wondering whether my parents missed me this much when I went away.

My friend Ann, who sits next to me in choir, reminds me that this feeling never goes away. One of her grown-up sons lives with his family in Australia. He came back for a family reunion this Christmas and she hadn't seen him for 2 years. Even before he arrived, poor Ann was fretting and upset about parting from him again and I understood perfectly well what she meant. I suppose we all move on, we have to, but the feelings remain the same. 

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Colds are miserable


A picture of grief

When I’m out with the boys, they often run to this lady to beg her for treats. She and her elderly German Shepherd bitch sit and enjoy the sunshine, dispensing biscuits to friendly local dogs. They are well-suited, the 14 year old rescue dog and her owner. They’ve both seen a lot of life, and they’re devoted to each other.

Oscar and I were waiting for wandering Raffles on Crab Hill Field this morning at the end of our walk and spied the lady trundling towards us, slowly, slowly leaning heavily on her sticks. No dog. The dog died on Monday.

“I’m so sorry. You must be devastated.”

“I am. It’s like losing a child. I feel lost.” 

Crocheted cotton throw

I’ve finally finished it. Well, called it a day really.

I’ve been working on this cotton wave throw on and off for three years. Mainly off.

I bought lots more balls of yarn for it but eventually realised that if I used them all I’d have a stair carpet rather than a blanket. I was going to add side panels but why over-complicate things? So I’m left with this throw-shaped throw and a lot of cotton yarn in muted shades of grey, green and blue. If you’ve any ideas about what to do with them, I’d love to hear the polite ones.

Anyway, it’s done now and time to move on to my next unfinished project: an alpaca jumper that was originally destined for James, but will now go to Eliza. If, indeed, she wants it.


Cotton throw to own, random, design made using Rowan Handknit Cotton and a Knitpro 4.00mm hook.

Dandelion clock in fog



I live in Beckenham, suburban London and, having worked in travel, industrial materials, recruitment advertising, and diversity consultancy, I have devoted the last decade or so to raising my children, of whom I am incredibly proud. Latterly, I have spent time developing my singing; caring for my two dogs and expressing myself through my blog and, especially, on Twitter.


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