Monday 31 March 2008

sewing at weekend

Look what I've made from the Softies book- sewing has the same buzz as poetry writing- some poems have a character and atmosphere that is satisfying, others are just scraps sewn together and maybe never finished.
I used to sew lots of soft toys when I was 17, 18 years old sewing scraps from the dress I'd make very week into another product. Now there is an avalanche of scraps waiting in cupboards, shelves, storage boxes, but my writing has waited longer.

Saturday 22 March 2008

book fair

Well it's Easter time again and our town holds a book fair for charity. I've been going to this for years and most of my extensive book shelving groans with treasured items. The sections I go to are- chidrens' books, poetry, cooking, craft, then novels.
What did I find yesterday?
Lucille Atwell
This type of book I remember fondly from my childhood.
Then I found this one for my grandaughter.
Does nostalgia drive our own stories, our own writing?

Tuesday 18 March 2008

autumn cleaning

Although the temperature hasn't dropped below 35 for days- cleaning up seems to crop up- I have become a hoarder- I love books and nick knacks and material- but don't like those small plastic containers that get put into out of way places and never seem to have the lid that matches. So this week I emptied out the drawers with the ceiling fan going and sorted and got ruthless.
It's that farming philosophy of it might come in handy- the hand- me down, save money philosophy. This is more an explanation for my kids than for me. But I do realise that things have to change- that possessions need to diminish.

So let me declare the war on clutter has begun- maybe the decluttering( what an impersonal title for goods so lavishly sought) will free up more time for writing.

Sunday 9 March 2008

fresh air

We recently took the caravan for a week away. As we drove through a windy road in a national park we saw some interesting graffiti on a rock. Also look at the root system of the old big trees as they hold rock and soil together. Poetry always fresh.