I seem to have lost my writing mojo lately, maybe because of all the letters I've been writing to heartless landlords, estate agents and MPs. However today I am pretending to be sitting on this mountain top on a sparkling Autumn day and writing rather nervously as it is the last Friday of the month and the land agent is due with a nasty letter. The fog is clinging heavily to the hills and the drizzle encourages moss on every surface, it's the kind of day for being in by the stove with something baking. It's still beautiful; I find it hard to make people understand that it is days like these that make me love living here. maybe I just like to be awkward...It's been a busy few weeks which is also my excuse for not writing. Another house hunting trip to the Lake District saw me staggering to the top of Place Fell on the most perfect Autumn day you can imagine; misty ribbons hung in the valleys with polished mirror lakes and wet roads from the previous night's rain looked like rivers in the bright light. Crazy people were carrying their bicycles up the steep path and I felt secretly relieved that since my bike got nicked Rupert hasn't been able to suggest such madness! We didn't find a house.Two days later I found myself in Bristol, visiting my lovely daughter at last. What a contrast! But I loved Stokes Croft, full of quirky independent shops, vegan cafes, graffiti and wonderful buildings. This is the view from Sara's student flat, the building is only lived in by pigeons but it made you dream...so many possibilities. It seems so crazy that places like this are empty when people are homeless, I wonder what will happen to it. It was so good to spend time in a place where it wasn't the biggest crime in the world to be a vegetarian and an artist, where not everyone wears tweed and drives a 4x4 ( yes my heart may belong to North Yorkshire but that's because of the landscape not the prevailing attitudes). We went to see Mr Turner and The Imitation Game and got lost in a wood full of badgers, met the lovely Jane Ormes in her little gallery/shop and I learned that when getting the bus one must ask for a Three Stop.Snuggled up in bed Sara and I made creatures out of "Sculpy"(?) and I've come home wishing I had a kiln and could make bears out of clay.Well it's almost time to go and grind some beans for coffee but first, have you heard about Just A Card? It is a campaign started by print maker Sarah Hamilton in conjunction with Mollie Makes and the Design Trust and the sentiment is really close to my heart because so many people have said " I love your work but I can't afford it" or come in to the gallery where I work and not realised that even if they can't afford the painting they liked, buying a card by the artist is helping that artist or maker keep going, usually for less than the price of a cappuccino. Anyway, it seems like a good idea although of course everyone should feel comfortable walking in to a gallery with empty pockets... I'm amazed at the amount of people who ask " is it ok if I come in?"  why is that?While I was writing that last bit the postman came so I'm plucking up the courage to see what he brought. Thank you to the 1,024 people who have so far signed our petition against eviction...you are wonderful x.....it was a solicitor with my eviction notice  

I took these pictures from the car window on the way to work last week; a day when the sky had fallen in and I quite literally had my head in the clouds. Progress along these moorland roads can be slow when you are constantly stopped in your tracks by a perfect cloud or the way a heavy frost makes delicate sculpture of the dead grasses and seed heads. Hawnby Hill, is the perfect miniature mountain I can see from my garden, unlike its surroundings it has rocky outcrops and scree slopes like a bonsai Lake District fell.Two weekends ago we went on a house hunting trip to the Lakes and viewed freezing cottages in the woods with dead wasps on every windowsill and semi perfect places (if the yellowing lace curtains and orange pine were removed) in wildly unsuitable locations.I keep trying to picture myself in these places, miles from home, friends and family and thinking about one of those annoying motivational pictures people share on Facebook, it said " If you don't like where you are, Move, you're not a tree" ... but what if you do like where you are and you have deep roots and if you got transplanted you'd just feel like a felled tree anyway?My trip to the Lakes also took me back to Temporary Measure where Emma was about to leave the tearoom for the last time and decamp to a wonderful studio just up the road. I'd gone to get some advice on preparing for the British Craft Trade Fair and talk about getting some samples printed and it was lovely to catch up; I left feeling a lot more positive about doing the event despite all that is going on, after all it's paid for now so I may as well go, even if I just have a suitcase and a handstitched copy of the Big Issue to show! Rupert described Emma as "positive and uplifting" which is true; she is also very funny and makes lovely things if you didn't already know. I was feeling a bit odd and had accidentally referred to Rupert as Richard Ashcroft when talking to an estate agent... my mind then went blank and I forgot his real name which isn't so good after being with someone over 4 years! Being a grown up is such hard work and I'm pretty sure it doesn't make a good impression on future landlords to introduce your partner as the lead singer of the Verve while crying with hysterical laughter and leaving them with the conclusion that the " The Drugs Don't Work".And so, home on Witchmountain, the house is swaddled in fog, the stove is glowing and I must get on and draw something instead of staring out of the window at the chickens or scouring the internet for houses to rent. I found another company that might be able to supply mugs with my designs on via the lovely Charlotte Vallance ,who I first came across through the Sketchbook Project; so I'm just messing around with box and mug templates and kind of wishing I'd done ceramics instead of textiles because I'd love to be able to use bowls and cups I had made myself. Some gorgeous ceramics like the ones below, from Mary Johnson came in to the Saltbox Gallery last week and I loved the fact that each mug was unique and you could almost see the maker's finger prints.So, I have loads more to say but I'll leave you with this poppy, as it's Armistice Day tomorrow. With lots of love, until next time. x

I'm wondering if writing when you're in a blue funk is as dangerous as food shopping when you're hungry... this post could end up being the verbal equivalent of a Greggs pasty and a bag of crisps when you'd gone out for tofu and salad. Anyway, I've been moping around all day like a gloomy zombie because I counted off every hour from 4am to 8.30am last night, at which point I got up and fed the chickles, ate breakfast and promptly fell fast asleep until nearly lunchtime. My circadian rhythms are all to pot and  I lie awake getting a lump of worry in my throat that goes down to my heart and sits there on my chest, like a  succubus. A hot bath, a glass of red wine and some homemade chocolate cake seem to have cheered me up this evening though and this picture shows the wall in Borrowdale where we saw the red squirrel - so there are bright moments.I haven't drawn anything this week but I think I may finally have some new glasses that work, thank god.  As you can see, I struggled a bit last weekend after snapping my glasses and having to dig out a selection of ancient ones from the depths of the bathroom cupboard. It reminded me of when I was small and used to try on my mum's glasses and run up and down the corridor for fun because the lens made it feel like you were running uphill!I'm not sure if I don't prefer the original pencil scribble, but anyway, it made me realise I need to keep practicing. Drawing is like any other exercise and its easy to get lazy and fat.On Tuesday evening Jane Thorniley-Walker and I went to the "Sponsors Preview" of Art For Youth North at Queen Mary's School. It was super posh; full of the great and the good (and the rich) and I am going to be honest and say I didn't enjoy it at all. Entirely my fault, it's not easy walking tall and making intelligent conversation whilst balancing a big bags of chips on each shoulder and a sack of worry on your back. Having said that, the work looked great, some beautiful landscapes by Peter Hicks, Ian and Rosie Scott Massie, Robin Puplett and the one I would have bought if I could ... "Moorland Cottage" by Caroline Dunn. It was fantastic to see that Jane had sold a piece on the first night which made it worthwhile. (and of course the event raises huge amounts for Youth charities throughout the UK so I'm proud to have been part of that.)I've still been thinking about next April's BCTF although they have given me the option to hold my place until 2016, since I have no idea what will be happening or where I'll be in the next few months ( it was either that or lose the money). I had some samples printed up hoping to be able to produce them at a wholesale price but now I'm not sure ...does anyone have experience of this? The prices I've been quoted so far ( just over £10 for a plate and £4.50 for a mug + VAT and postage) mean that there is very little profit in it for me, let alone a potential stockist. I really need some professional advice....oh and a fairy godmother with a pot of magic beans.Well now it is time to see if I can read myself to sleep and stay there until morning.I want to say another massive thank you for all the kind messages of support. I wish some of you lived around here, I'm sure I wouldn't feel so alone, we could march on the Big House and demand my jar of jam back.I also want to send huge amounts of love and good wishes to my very dear friend who is currently in hospital learning to make her legs behave after having a stroke type thing last weekend. Fit and young ( well, my age) and very brave for keeping on smiling and joking when lesser folk ( me) would have been reduced to a self pitying mess. Get Well Soon or there'll be trouble!The petition has now reached 888 signatures which is pretty amazing. Ive also had some really kind people from a nearby village offering support as they too have felt the spite of my neighbour. I even got a phone call and a sort of off the record apology from the man who runs Toby Horton's Twitter account. However there has been not a word or gesture from the the man himself, or the estate.

PETITION ....please sign and share if you can. Thank you