An old bit of sketchbook "don't stay still for too long or we'll grow moss"

I've been hiding in the bedroom. I think I've mentioned before that this house feels a bit like a tree house or a goldfish bowl: it's a Cumbrian Bank Barn which means it's kind of upside-down - you come in downstairs but we live upstairs where the room is dominated by glass doors onto what was the "bank", originally the entrance to the threshing floor. From most windows at the front there is no visible sky, just tree branches and mountain side. Anyway, a man turned up today to clear the roof of moss and all day we've been stuck here watching clods of sodden mud raining down like cow pats from the sky and getting our knickers in a twist about insensitive timing and the almost hilarious speed at which long neglected things are being done now that we're being kicked out. Now the roof and gutters have been de-mossed it will make it all much nicer for the landlords but right now it just means our windows are splattered with mud and my "garden" of pots outside the big window is like the Somme. I'm moaning, I'm sorry, we're grateful, it needed doing. It's just that we felt trapped, especially when the landlord stood outside the window chatting with the roof guy as if we didn't exist, as if lockdown didn't exist and things were crappy enough but now it looks a mess too.

Autumn this year, before the mud.

Poo sticks! It's so boring to keep going on about it when I want to talk about art and trees and lovely things but I think its probably worth noting that both of us have been sailing really stormy seas this week and just as we feel briefly calm the enormity of the stuff we have to sort in the next few weeks (time that should be spent on other things) crashes down again and at times we've both admitted that we've doubted our own reality, were worried we were wrong, had been naive and had brought it on ourselves by "making a fuss". Today's "Hot Ear" conversation put my mind at rest a little; there may be nothing we can do or change, we will have to leave, but the situation is not of our making and didn't need to be like this. I'm so angry that this could easily be happening to other people in much tougher circumstances, in fact it is, all the time and people need to know that. I found some useful site's today that I hadn't been aware of but always hoped existed, one is Ask Tenants which attempts to redress the imbalance whereby checks are compulsory for prospective tenants but there are no similar checks on landlords or properties for rent.
Yes, I know, I should shut up in case it ruins our chances of finding a new place but I can't. We ARE good tenants. Injustice thrives on silence.
Here are some imaginary and illusionary houses...

The black and white tree house picture only surfaced recently while my brother was scanning some old negatives. I have no memory of the place, a family friend's garden, but I was immediately surprised at the similarity to my slightly surly tree house girl. Weren't the 70's funny, I have no idea how I got up a tree in a lace mini dress, am I happy or stuck?
I haven't drawn anything new today but I have been packing some orders, lining up my ducks and feeling very emotional about the lovely comments people have been writing. Thank you so much.
Want to see something beautiful now? For several years David Wilson, a stained glass designer and art college friend of my parents, has been sending me occasional funny and encouraging messages (he grew up in Osmotherley where I used to live, went to Middlesbrough Art College and eventually moved to New York) Today I looked at his updated website and am now fantasising about building a swimming pool with stained glass walls, a light filled room with angels and abstract panels and warm blue water...ok, I know but it's good to dream isn't it. Aren't they something?!

Images ©DavidWilsonDesign

Day Five is Blue Monday, so because I've been awake since 4am and have absolutely no idea what to write, here is a row of blue and white lanterns in the low winter light.
I'd tried listening to a podcast (Fortunately with Jane Garvey and Fi Glover) to help me go back to sleep but bits of it were so funny that it woke me up even more with giggling and by 7am I'd given up and was eating toast in my polar bear suit, cuddling a hot water bottle. By 10 I was a zombie and fell into such a deep well of sleep that I could barely string a sentence together when the man from Citizen's Advice called and dragged me back up to the surface. He was helpful, and made me half wish I'd succeeded at my Sociology/Law degree back in the 80's so I could have been useful too (I kept falling asleep then too). Anyway, now I have Hot Telephone Ear Syndrome from all the stressful conversations (this is a real condition that can only be cured with tea and Garibaldi biscuits apparently) but at least things seem a little more under control (touch wood).

I walked a little too and dabbled about with some paint; even though I don't like them and feel like a clot for even sharing them or writing this sleep deprived ramble in a public space I know that it's been good exercise to do it. For the first time in ages I've set an intention and stuck to it, even though it's felt like the world is collapsing. There is study by Ewa Kacewicz, Richard B. Slatcher, and James W. Pennebaker that promotes the idea of "Expressive Writing" as an alternative to other traditional therapies and ways of dealing with trauma, "When people transform their feelings and thoughts about emotional experiences into language, their physical and mental health often improves."
But don't worry, there are just two days left of this week long waffle, after which normal intermittent service will resume. Hopefully tomorrow will start at a sensible time with cooler ears and happier conversations. I think there may be treehouses in tomorrows post...
x

Day three has not been a magic number and I want to start today by apologising for the fact that I set myself the task of writing/drawing daily, for a week, just as the shit hit the fan.
Today began with a delivery of wildly differing types of post, one being a lovely, surprise letter from an old friend and the other being two copies of a solicitor's eviction notice under Section 21 of the Housing Act. I'm concentrating on the wonderful timing of my friend's letter which was the perfect antidote to a surprisingly speedy action by our normally glacially slow to act landlords. Rupert went for a run to burn away the fury and I tried to draw Tree.
Then we set off to Penrith get my head looked at.

I've been getting loads of migraines and earache. The doctor suggested an MRI scan and olive oil; only the olive oil has made me deaf, trapped in my own head with unruly thoughts, the sounds of the sea, creaking ice floes and popping Space Dust. The mobile MRI unit wasn't there and we drove around Penrith unable to make sense of the map - which turned out to be a map of Carlisle. All the information I'd been given was muddled up with 2 different appointment times and 3 different locations. I suppose if I'd been less distracted I'd have noticed the letter was wrong and avoided all the eerie wandering about in dark, deserted car parks at the back of hospital buildings, looking for invisible vans. It seems wrong to make a fuss when the NHS is under so much pressure so we came home and ate oven chips.
YIKES, this is not an interesting post is it. I did splosh some paint about; an attempt at Tree and two rough sketches based on walks in the not-our-garden next door at dusk. The garden is neglected and wild but was obviously once very much a labour of love. Over the years I've tried to resist its pull but couldn't bare to see it totally abandoned, with all its rare and carefully chosen plants choked by brambles as thick as a fairytale. I did more than I should have in the circumstances and got too attached but you can never regret gardening, it does demand a kind of optimism and hope that in the future the seed you've planted will flower and fruit.

That's me done for today. Done for, because you've probably unsubscribed but if you haven't, tomorrow I'll make more of an effort, share a wonderful photograph from the family archive and maybe have more drawings. Take care and enjoy the rest of Saturday x