I've locked myself into my little room again with a mug of coffee and a Mars bar. Its hard to be in the house at the moment because it's so dark and cool, shaded almost all day by the huge Sycamores that cut out anything but elusive patches of dappled sunlight and cover everything in sticky damp gloom; they are magnificent trees but I'm starting to look forward to leaf fall! The birds are singing very loudly and it feels as though Im in the tree with them. It seems as though it has been a wonderfully long summer - so many after work adventures that the days felt twice as long but still it's hard to "waste" a day indoors when I can see the patches of blue sky through the leaves and I know it's a perfect September day.September brings with it memories of the last days of peace and security in my old life, of planting Autumn vegetables and planning for the next gardening year in my little cottage on the moors. I still wake in the middle of the night and wonder where I am; who I am even, not used to living under huge, noisy trees, just the big skies of the North York Moors. A couple of weeks ago I had another terrible shock when I found out that both the ponies we'd had to give away during the eviction were dead. Sadly the person who I'd trusted to give them a home, keeping them together, hadn't felt the need to tell me that she was having problems so that when Basil apparently "died in his sleep" she had Impy destroyed, claiming he was aggressive and dangerous. I think I will never know what really happened, she wouldn't give me more details and claimed she thought I wouldn't care. I'm sure she had her reasons but to me it was another slap in the face from the past, un-necessary and un-feeling. Impy was a part of our lives since he was a foal... a cheeky little bugger but never mean. I hate injustice, he was wrongly convicted and  I find it so hard to accept (I'm fairly nervous about the Archers tonight too, I think  I might need therapy if Helen Archer is found guilty!) Anyway, rest in peace little ponies; I'm trying to draw them but a childhood of drawing nothing but ponies is letting me down just now... I can't capture the essence of pony!I've also been trying to capture the essence of Lake District Cottage but receiving some mixed reactions. This design is now a book, card, mug and a vase, available in my Etsy shop and I'd love to know what you think.It was good to be able to re-open my shop at last; it had taken Etsy months to fix a glitch that repeatedly changed the spelling of Keswick to Koswick which may seem like a small issue but I have enough problems with spelling and punctuation without looking like I can't spell the name of the place I live! I'm really hoping to make a go of Etsy this time as however much I love my wonderful stockists, especially those that buy upfront and help promote my work, the nature and volume of handmade work means it's often vital for most artists to sell directly to the customer as well (especially if you happen to live half way up a mountain). Having worked in galleries and seen both sides I know that it is so important for artists and galleries to work together and have mutual respect... artists need real bricks and mortar shop fronts as well as virtual ones and galleries need to understand that artists aren't all dizzy, insecure divas which is why I love the #JustACard campaign as it attempts to support all parties and spread the word about the importance of keeping these small, often rural, businesses thriving. I'm really proud of the cards I design and sell... one of the main reasons for this is that I have chosen to have them printed by another small, rural business so every sale I make is also in a small way supporting another creative business in the area. Emma and her family have been so supportive and are as committed as I am to trying to keep things as eco-friendly as possible; if you haven't seen their website yet you are missing out, go right now and look...oh no, read to the end of the page first and then go (and look out for the card with me and my dad painting in the garden!)Well, there is still time for me to take a quick wander up the valley before getting back to work so I will leave you with this image of Rupert half way up a rock face. He is away this weekend which is why I'm eating chocolate and writing instead of attempting to be brave whilst tied to a tree on an ant infested rock (not as kinky as it sounds). Last week we walked up fells with only deer and sheep for company, swam in inky smooth, sunset tinted lakes and climbed giant rocks where fear could be momentarily calmed by the sight of a perfect, delicate, fairy toadstool clinging to a mossy ledge (and I am still recovering from the midge bites that turned me hot, red and angry even before the Labour Party rejected my application to join... but thats another story) and it feels as though we live in the most special place despite everything. I keep thinking about the title of a book by artist Sabrina Ward Harrison- "Brave on the Rocks- if you don't go, you don't see" and just keeping going because turning around and trying to go back is often much, much harder.READING: "The Outrun" by Amy Liptrot   LISTENING TO: "Meet the Humans" Steve Mason

This past weekend marked a year since the first night in our new home in Newlands Valley; the anniversary has so many emotions attached to it that it was a roller coaster of feelings and memories . The snow had given way to warm rain and greyness so Sunday's walk was along the shores of Derwent Water, where this storm damaged jetty appealed to my introspective mood... a metaphor for life with its wild ups and downs, rakish camber and, well ... the obvious question where is it heading and where do you go when you reach the end? I lay awake for hours the other night with so much I wanted to say about this year and how I got here but the rapid approach of BCTF and the fact that for the moment this blog serves as my website, not just a confessional, means I'm more aware than ever of the need to keep a stiff upper lip, appear positive and not get on my soap box too often. However, just for today let me remind you of what I had to leave behind......not just a house but a home, a garden, a history, a way of life, family, friends and belonging to a landscape. Congratulations to all those involved for living with your consciences for a year and especially Mr Toby Horton who is currently adding to his community spirited portfolio by failing to supply residents of Ingleby Greenhow with reliable running water from the private water supply he owns; some things never change.And so the only thing to do is keep on looking forwards, treating others with the kindness and compassion you'd hope for yourself and trying to negotiate the slippery pier without falling in too soon.Last week I received the not unexpected news that the gallery in Keswick were having to make staff cuts following the floods,  and so my year in the Lake District ends as it began, with a search for work and security whilst also throwing myself more wholeheartedly than ever into a more professional approach to my artwork. I've really enjoyed my time at Northern Lights Gallery and I'm so sad it's had to end, not to mention a little worried. I think it is important that people realise just how seriously affected many people have been, and will continue to be, by the floods, not just businesses that actually flooded but also those who are suffering from the road closures and drop in visitor numbers. It's an ongoing thing and sadly so many small galleries and creative businesses  in particular seem to have been hit over the important Christmas period. Independent galleries are vital in supporting many other small businesses, providing a shop window for all those artists and makers slaving away in leaky studios and cluttered kitchen tables; they also make our towns more attractive and uplifting. So here is my appeal... if you can, please support small galleries and independent businesses, don't go in and ask for the artist's website address so you can try and get it cheaper, don't pick up a greetings card to jot down a name and then walk out without even having the grace to part with the £3 for the card ( it happens ) and if you have a moment have a look at this from Snug Gallery in Hebbden Bridge. Well, the kettle on the stove is about to boil so I really need to be brave, make a pot of tea and make a start on cobbling together my stand design; it will involve cutting and measuring and is bound to end in tears which is why I've spent all day avoiding it!Oh my goodness! I nearly deleted this whole post by accident just then, what a fright. Just time to say THANK YOU yet again for reading, commenting and being generally lovely. To celebrate my first year in the Lake District I'm going to do a long overdue giveaway. If you'd like to be entered in the draw to win a pair of  mugs, embroidered lavender sachet, bear pincushion and various other design samples,  just leave a comment - and share this post on Facebook or Twitter if you can. I'll pick a winner on February 6th... the last day I spent in North Yorkshire and my parent's wedding anniversary. Good luck xListening to:  Kaleidophonica by Spiro ( perfect soundtrack for driving around the mountains )

A bear with a jar full of stars, a valley full of chiffon mist, celestial blue skies; if only life could always be filled with such magic and beauty. I feet like retreating into my inner land of make believe this week and potentially that may be the safest place.It's been the most unbelievably atmospheric Autumn here in the Lake District so far. Clouds and mists rise and fall, flowing down the valleys and draping themselves over the tops like gossamer bridal veils - forgive the flowery language but you can see why all those poets got carried away with it around here. Sunday's walk was a perfect example ... beginning in sun dappled forests smelling of pine and mushrooms and earth (Shinrin-yoku), enduring a slog up a boggy hillside in thick fog (navigation practice, hmmm) to emerge on an eerily lit summit where an almost biblical revelation occurred as the mist slid away in stages to reveal layer upon layer of heartbreakingly gorgeous landscape.I hear it's been like that above a certain height all week but for one reason or another I have been unable to reach up to the sunlight through the fog.I had been due to start my new job at the Museum yesterday. As I said in my last post it had meant that at last I would be earning enough to justify my existence on the planet but not only that; I was hoping it would mean meeting more people over here, drawing me out of what has become an increasingly hermit like existence. I also really liked the Museum. I got an email on Saturday asking me to "pop in on Monday for a chat".I had been offered the job on the merit of my interview and the carefully prepared presentation on " The Benefits of Working with Volunteers", the gallery in Keswick provided a good reference and I had all the dates on the calendar and my shoes polished for day one. Only I did a stupid thing. I trusted in honesty and good intentions.I'd given Joe Cornish ( the photographer not the comedian ) as a referee, believing in my naivety that, despite all the difficulties in the cafe towards the end of my time there, I'd loved my work organising the creative workshops and that I had done a good job, been a dedicated and effective member of staff and that Joe himself was a man of integrity and an artistic soul (as his website claims). I was very wrong. Joe was too busy packing for a trip to write anything so his partner suggested they ask the gallery. Joni (who had cried when I left and apologised for her mismanagement of the situation) wrote a reference that made me sound like a lovable village idiot who could just about make a cappuccino but was unlikely to manage anything too taxing involving any "attention to detail", numeracy, organisation or reliability... and thus I was sent away humiliated and shell shocked, the job offer withdrawn. I am indeed an idiot, I expect people to act fairly and compassionately and they don't. The past is a hole thinly covered with branches on a sunlit path and inside the hole there are spikes and mud and monsters.I also found out that Joe is again running his exclusive residential workshops from the lovely North York Moors surroundings of ....wait for it.... Snilesworth Lodge, shooting estate and home of the delightful and kind Toby Horton, UKIP landowner. I felt like I'd been beaten up.I've moaned at you and it's a massive turn off but sometimes things need saying and the cat wasn't really being very responsive. In other news I've been printing mugs and lurking about in my pyjamas in next door's porch trying to photograph them ( the mugs not the pyjamas) in the morning light, I've been listening to Elbow and trying to play my mandolin and getting trapped in corners by spitting alpacas... not all at the same time though. I won't always be moaning so please come back soon, thank you for listening. xReading :-"Nature Cure" - Richard Mabey  Listening To:- Real Life (Angel) -  Elbow