is there anything more lovely than a sunday?

You say goodbye, I say hello

We call her P-owl-a

P A U L A

Her granny sends her care parcels from Berlin, the idea of which I adore. Since my childhood days immersed in the world of Enid Blyton I've wanted to be a boarder at a school where by day we play lacrosse and drink ginger beer and by night sneak to our tuck boxes and indulge in the hushed excitement of illicit midnight feasts. The concept of a care parcel, packed lovingly by somebody who holds you dear in their mind, is so touching. Paula's granny sends her special German goods the likes of non-perishable vegan spreads and herbal teas. As my 'goodbye and I'll miss you until after Easter' gift she presented me with a linen teabag whose tag held a positive keepnote reminding the drinker to stay strong and keep hope, the exact thing that is so true yet can be so quickly forgotten in the daily commotion of life. I walked past a chalkboard outside a cafe the other day; it said "Juices to energise you, tea to calm you down & coffee to keep you awake".

As a friend she does all three.

standing on a haystack

morning noon and night

A day is but a collection of occurrences. I wake up. I brush my teeth. I put on my socks. I look out the window. I make a pot of coffee. I put on my jumper. I look for something among my things and see that what these things are together is a pretty little collection. This represents that and that reminds me of this. Isn't it lovely. I make lunch. I listen to the radio. I spend a day away from work of any kind and spend time instead enjoying the small things that go unnoticed in the bustle of a normal day. Isn't it nice.

float on high

I wandered lonely as a cloud/ that floats on high o'er vale and hills/ clouds float by the window on high o'er rooftops and chimneys as I look from the kitchen and contemplate a day more grounded.

the post from the past

With cherry blossoms on the trees the spring air breathes itself into my steps as hopes of a summer soon to come bring a brighter side to every day. And as college winds down I have a few moments to spare for finally publishing the backlog of posts began long back with the best of intent but abandoned to the futility of my impossible aspirations of achievement. There are never enough hours in a day; a fact stated in the extreme yet one that unfortunately rings true daily

What we had, some of this precious time ago, was the learning experience of a knitwear internship personified in puppet form. Felting was fun in a forwards and backwards and forwards and backwards sort of way.

pouring life into a cup

When you're working twelve hour days in the studio and you're getting tired but still go to work ten hour days in the cafe and your favourite friend there tells you they're leaving and this is the last shift you will have together you can't help but feel sad and so make a macchiato to express your bleary heart and hope that soon the coffee might perk you up a little and you can pretend that it's not so bad and things won't be so terrible without him there but then you know it's not true and he really will be gone and it will never be the same and you will never be as happy as you were and remembering the good times is better left until another time.