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Simple pleasures...

There are rituals that start my day. I don’t know whether or not everyone has their own version of these but that’s okay because I long ago realised that I am perfectly normal and it’s everyone else who can be, to put it as politely as I can, a bit odd. My father used to quote the old Yorkshire saying ‘everyone’s made except me and thee… and sometimes I’m not so sure about thee’ and I’m aspiring to that sort of confidence that I am who I am and it’s okay to be that person, and if I feel like being someone else then that’s okay too.


So my ritual begins at a little after five o’clock with opening the windows to air the house, and then either standing on the doorstep if it’s raining hard or going outside to get a sense of the day. At this time of year the sun is coming up so sometimes I’ll take some photographs. In the winter time I need my rechargeable big torch. Either way, I take some deep breaths and mentally run through my day as the cats arrive (Catling, Willow and LucyFurr Morningstar) They come with me for a little snack while they tell me all about their nights and wonder why I still can’t speak their language properly despite all these years of being owned by cats.


Then I make myself a cup of herb tea and get down to the jobs for the day because I like knowing they’re out of the way before I get distracted by reading writing or sewing which I’m not ashamed to admit I often do. I’ve just discovered ‘A Discovery of Witches’ because I was silly busy when that series was a thing and it’s compelling and fascinating. I’m not sure whether I like the characters and it’s not a world that I’d want to live in, but I’m very grateful to the nice people at Amazon for putting the first trilogy on as a 99p deal because it encouraged me to explore and made insomnia fun.


It’s Saturday today, so the duties are baking something indulgent for breakfast, which this week is a cinnamon swirl loaf from Jane’s Patisserie. (You’ll find the recipe here if you’re interested. https://www.janespatisserie.com/2021/12/22/cinnamon-swirl-loaf/ ) It’s a lovely silky well favoured dough that I make in the bread machine and then roll out, fill, roll up and tuck in a baking tin. As I do this it strikes me, not for the first time, that my sort of cooking and domesticity and other simple pleasures have a lot in common with mindfulness and possibly even meditation.


I knead and roll the dough and then spread it with butter (I use spreadable butter instead of melting it as in the recipe) sprinkle it with sugar and cinnamon and my mind wanders ever so gently and relaxingly. I’m aware of the feel of the dough under my hands, the smell of the cinnamon and the small satisfaction of rolling it up smoothly. There’s a gentle calm pleasure in popping it in a pretty silicon tin with a pattern at the bottom that reminds me of childhood’s in Germany and covering it with one of my mum’s old tea towels while it rises.


The next job is the ironing, which reminds me of how my mum used to stay up late ‘to finish the ironing’ while I was out on dates. Late for me was eleven o’clock on a week night and midnight on Friday’s and Saturdays so I always was that sort of rebel. My rebelliousness was and is to love the old ways that so many women consider demeaning so I like ironing. I like the sense of making order out of chaos in these early minutes before the family wake and come downstairs to bring chaos out of order. I like the smell of the freshly ironed cotton and knowing that I’ll go to sleep with a smooth, sweet smelling, allergy free pillowcase under my face so that I won’t be woken so often by my menfolk coughing and sneezing. I like pressing my patchwork pieces and seeing them coming to life as a new pattern. It reminds me of the patterns of life and how they constantly change but everything and, I hope, everyone, finds the right place in the end as long as you keep looking.


Then it’s on to the washing. Today it’s quilts and light coloured washing and I pause as I pin a memory quilt on the line and remember and smile as I read the embroidered memories. I think ‘I must make another one of those’ and wonder which of the lovely fabrics I’ve uncovered I’d like to use. There’s a particularly nice set of turquoise four inch squares, so I make a note to find them, because now I know where it is and can easily get hold of it.

We won’t talk about how many quilts I’ve made over the fifty-five years I’ve been making them. (In my defence, I did start very, very young…) We definitely won’t talk about the amount of fabric I have, but I do use the quilts , draped across chairs, folded at the end of beds, covering laundry baskets. Being slept on by cats and making me happy and I hope everyone else too.


So that’s the jobs done and this typed ready to edit later and soon I’ll get down to work on typing up the paper edit of ‘The Unlikeliest Spy’ which is out in August. Kit, my heroine, escaped domesticity and paid a high price for it back in the 1960’s where the book is set, and that’s fine too. My sort of feminism is simple. It’s about doing what’s right for you, not what’s right for anyone else, so if your idea of heaven is a takeaway then that’s fine by me. Enjoy. If you dance till dawn, then have a wonderful time. Meanwhile, I’ll be enjoying my simple pleasures, and counting my blessings and going to see an art exhibition. I go down the garden, out the back gate, down the lanes that link our little heritage area, turn right and there I’ll be, because it’s Dorset Art Week so there’s an exhibition of amazing sculptures made from found materials in a garden that’s smaller than mine. I’ll tell you all about it on Tuesday, with plenty of photographs because they’re beautiful…


Today’s photograph is from yesterday when we were down in the park so early that the cygnets were all curled up in a bundle and asleep. I knew cats and dogs do this, but I’d never realised that cygnets did. They’re growing so fast that they’re starting to look like swans now, and just coming out of the scruffy stage and into the teenager stage and I love watching them grow and transform just as I once watched their parents. These simple pleasures make me happy and I hope you have a happy time till we meet again, and after that too.




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