On Saturday night, we decided to Wassail our apple trees. We lit a bonfire in their honour, mulled old cider, and sang songs as the darkness and the cold closed in around us.
It was fab.
If you want to hear some good tunes about apples listen to http://radionowhere.org/Podcast.htm and find Ruby’s programme about Apples.
I can clearly hear the TV on the other side of the window. It’s my daughter, who should be at school, but presented me with a “throat like knives” in the early morning darkness, and like a fool, I gave in.
I was good at “feeling ill”. I developed pink cheeks, high temperatures, fevers, sickness, all overnight, and my mother always believed me. Apparently I had a weak chest, weak stomach, weak everything. The result is terrible spelling and a hazy sense of punctuation. However in those pre-telly days, it also lead to reading and drawing. Tonnes of it. I worked my way through my brother and sister’s Tintin books, all the pony books I could find, even my Grandmother’s collection of Jean Plaidy. I raided the Mobile Library and found the Hobbit, Stig of the Dump, Tom’s Midnight Garden, the works of Roald Dahl, and James Thurber, and ultimately, the last book remember reading as a child, the Silver Sword by Ian Serraillier.
As this is called “View from my Velux” I thought you’d better have a picture of the view from my Velux. In case you don’t know, a Velux is a rooflight that opens. In order to take the photo; I’ve had to risk life and limb by clambering onto a cheap revolving office chair and sticking my head out of the rooflight.
On the top right of the picture you can see a black area caught up with green creepers. This is where the magpies nest every year.
They are really noisy but not half as noisy as the cars that rumble past behind this tangle of hedge.
I work up in this room, because I can’t spend too long staring out of the window, or at least if I do stare, it’s straight up at the sky which is currently grey.
I’m still supposed to be thinking about synopses.
I’m actually thinking about lunch.
So, dragging myself into the twenty first century, I’m going to start this little blog. Monday morning, the children have gone to school by magic carpet, the house is freezing, the guinea pigs are still alive, and I’m really supposed to be writing a synopsis.
I’m thinking about a girl who lives in a very messy house.
It could be autobiographical.