If you read my last newsletter you will know that I started 2019 by accidentally going out with my trousers on inside out and sharing a calendar I'd designed featuring the wrong days of the week. In an effort to reverse the, all too typical, trend I wrote a big To Do list and happily ticked off almost everything within a week, including the tax return. The only thing left is this blog post which of course means I'm sitting on the floor by the stove, wrapped in blankets, warming the fingers of one hand on a mug of tea and... yes, totally blank.

Reluctant snow flakes are floating aimlessly outside the big window, occasionally Causey Pike disappears in a flurry but not much is settling, it's as if the clouds are blocked up like a damp salt cellar. A big shard of ice just blew out of the gutter in a gust of wind and all I can think about is, how long it might take to make some cinnamon buns. January is definitely not a good time for imposing strict new diets and exercise regimes; in fact I think it is vital to edge into the new year cautiously, not looking it in the eye and being extra kind to yourself at every opportunity (and others of course, be extra kind to everyone and build up a fat store of good feelings to help you through the rest of the year's up and downs). This year in particular I've been really aware of how the low light in this house affects my mood and, these days, my eyesight. It feels as though I'm wearing a very large and heavy, wide brimmed hat so I've been trying to make sure I get outside even for a few minutes to make sure my rods and cones don't wither! Nutmeg kitten has been joining me on my short walks, bounding along silently, climbing every tree and promising that his extra bushy tail (which puffs up like a bottle brush the further we get from home) will protect us from almost anything.

I think one of the reasons I'm struggling to write this is that I've brooding over the #10yearchallenge thing on social media, which as far as I can see is only fun if you're about 30 ( that goldilocks decade) and looked a bit odd in your 20s or if you've made a massive success of everything in the past 10 years and overcome major set backs so that you can look back with smug satisfaction at how far you've come. I look back way too much, dwell on anniversaries and pine for the past to an unhealthy degree, so digging out photos from 10 years ago does not help me get used to the person I see in the mirror every day- I don't know who she is but she keeps trying to tell me that "looking back is for the birds" and I need to appreciate NOW more and look forward with less foreboding.

Because of the tax return and the New Year, January does tend to be a bit of a looking back, taking stock and reassessing the situation kind of month. Like many creative people, part of what I do inevitably involves some degree of rejection and this can be particularly tough as you bounce bravely into the new year full of plans and hopes. Poet Kate Hale wrote a really good blog about this from the point of view of a writer and as I sulked slightly at a recent exhibition rejection (more because it involved an un-returnable entry fee and a "we are to busy to email unsuccessful candidates" policy, than the actual rejection) I took heart from her suggestion that "You keep casting your line out, and you keep reeling it in. Sometimes there’s a wriggling fish hooked on the end, but most times it’s empty. That’s ok, though. This is just another opportunity for you to add fresh bait."

As you can see I'm still enjoying escaping reality with my daydreamy watercolour doodles. I'm not sure where I'm going with them yet; that girl keeps popping up in various places and I haven't quite decided what her story, or face, is yet... who is she?

One exciting piece of news this week is that there's the possibility of doing another set of book illustrations, this time for The Secret Garden. I really hope it happens, it's probably jinxing it to say it out loud but I really enjoyed doing the last ones for the Ugly Duckling and it's amazing to feel like a "real" artist! I've added the little books to my website recently and Elspeth will be at British Craft Trade Fair in April with all her "Storybook Cards"

Meanwhile in cyanotype news I've been adding a new section to the website which lists workshop dates for 2019 including one at Printfest where Cumbria Printmakers have been asked to run various 3 hour sessions alongside the exhibition which is all a bit wildly exciting as it's one of the most prestigious print exhibitions in the north. Just as exciting is a brand new exhibition this summer organised by fellow Cumbria Printmaker, Sarah Robley, at Lanercost Priory. Print at the Priory, is a selected exhibition showcasing a wide variety of techniques and some fabulous artists... I'd better get practising!

Well, I've managed to stumble to the end of this post and if you're still reading thank you. I really do like writing I just need to be more organised and confident about it I think. Anyway, here's to another year of ups and downs, adventures and lazy days. x

Reading: "Holmes and Watson, a miscellany" by S.C.Roberts and Listening to: (audio book) "The Binding" by Bridget Collins

Here I sit on the 3rd day of the year, a nuthatch is attacking the bird feeder,  and apart from the kettle bubbling on the stove, the house is momentarily empty and quiet. I'm trying to gather some thoughts to cobble together this blog post but after nearly a month with no phone or internet, combined with the blurring together of days over Christmas, I feel as though I've emerged like Rip Van Winkle, blinking and out of time. Yesterday the phone was finally fixed (a giant battle with EE for compensation begins) and I am so joyful at being able to speak to my family in a warm room instead of shivering half way down the lane. I  missed Christmas as far as my work goes ... no access to the website or ability to promote myself through social media has probably resulted in fewer sales,  but the radio silence has made me even more acutely aware that it is the connections we make with other people that really matter in life. Isolation can be a terrible thing and cannot be compared to chosen solitude. Anyway, all communications are working again now, I didn't have to start training pigeons and the new year stretches ahead like a clean sheet of paper. I'm sharpening metaphorical pencils and preparing to make the first marks.We had some sparkling days in December, when the path to the reservoir was studded with emeralds and rocks in the Scope Beck were encased and smoothed by shells of ice. Lakes reflected skies like water colours and kept reminding me of  my dad's paintings, as I wandered about being over emotional and nostalgic - a side effect os the season.I had that "end of term" feeling in December as the last of the year's orders went out. It's a good feeling, to have cleared my desk, done the tax return and temporarily downed tools but also tends towards panic as the pressure to build on this year's successes grows. I made the decision not to do British Craft Trade Fair this year which means I'm going to have to work really hard to be visible (the internet outage couldn't have come at a worse time!) and hopefully keep the galleries I've worked with in 2017 interested as well as finding some new opportunities. Art in the Pen was so good for me that this year I'm hoping to do a few more similar events as well as getting my act together with the plan to run small workshops here. I like the idea of hosting small groups, running informal "kitchen table" style workshops and finally being able to use my "Brownie Guide Hostess Badge" skills (endless cups of tea and cake) .Really I should have spent the month of no internet working on a new collection of designs and pouring over my  "Dream, Plan,Do" journal ( setting "juicy goals " ugh, no! ) but instead I retreated in to a book and it was the best thing I could have done. I'd wanted to join in a Twitter read along thing dreamed up by Robert Macfarlane and Julia Bird, the idea was to read  "The Dark is Rising", a children's classic by Susan Cooper, mirroring in real time the days described in the story, starting on Winter Solstice eve. I managed to find a hideous 1990's copy in Oxfam which included all five books in the sequence ( The Dark is Rising is the second but they all could stand alone) and set about retreating from real life for a while. It was a shame I couldn't join in with the #TheDarkIsReading discussions online but I feel as though it was perfectly timed ; descriptions of winter landscapes, dark lanes, ominous crows and battles with "the Dark" came easily to mind as I spent many hours standing alone in the pitch dark and bitter cold trying to make phone calls!  There is something comforting about reading books associated with childhood and I raced through all five volumes, able to briefly forget my worries. It reminds me of the winters of 2009/2010 when the heavy snow meant enforced seclusion and retreat (on that occasion in to  Tove Jansson's Moominland Midwinter) ; I think we all need this escape/hibernation from time to time and it has left me more able to face the January chill and the uncertainties of another year so thanks for the prompt Robert and Julia. Goodness, the fire is a disgrace; despite frantic wood collection and much sawing by Rupert and his brother over the past few days (the woodpile got wet when the basement flooded last night during Storm Eleanor). My fingers have gone numb. It's time for me to think about supper and finding something dry to burn... or another jumper...Happy 2018 to you and thank you as always, for reading . This blog will have it's tenth birthday in April so there will be things to win and tiny celebrations. For now I will leave you with this "Best9" image that seems to sum up 2017 in all its beautiful shades of blue, green and grey.Reading; "The Night Circus"  by Erin Morgenstern  Listening to: "How to Stop Time " by Matt Haig ( audio book) and trying to forget the hours of Christmas tunes played in a loop by EE customer services.

I've been awake since about 4am and now as New Year's Eve dawns I am sitting in the kitchen, cuddling a hot water bottle despite the stove. I wanted to write before but I'm haunted by a sign I once saw on a bookshelf in WHSmith's ; it said "Misery Memoirs"... I wouldn't want to inflict more of that on you. But some things need saying.Its been a rotten Christmas ( apart from having my lovely children home), I've been ill (including a trip to A&E where I was over zealous in washing my hands and must have somehow lost one of the rings given to me by my children), we've had no water (a neighbour's Kerosine tank leaked into the water table and we've been told not to even wash in it until further notice), a close friend had some tragic news and now I am preparing to send my daughter back to university knowing that she probably won't get a chance to come home again before we are evicted.So I have been sitting here this morning donating small amounts to the charities Water Aid (not for the first time due to the awful water here and the realisation that some people live like this all the time)  and Survivors of Bereavement by Suicide  (because my friend is so brave, though she doesn't know it and so are my other dear friends who have been through the same thing and are some of the kindest strongest most generous people I know).I really hope 2015 is a good year for everyone and that the world becomes a better, kinder, more equal place  (except for the Trustees of Snilesworth Estate, their land agent and the Sayer Family... I just can't help it, sorry. Mean people should get all the bad luck, not the lovely people like my friend Helen.) Thank you for all your support in 2014... I will try to have drawings and pictures and good news next time I write x