This post was written a week or more ago but comes to you courtesy of the wonderful Cafe West at the Keswick Museum since EE and BT Openreach have spectacularly failed to connect me to the world beyond Newlands Valley! I've missed you.....

The wind is racing down the valley bringing curtains of hail and sleet which hammer on the door like unwelcome guests, I’m writing next to a different stove...a large and hungry beast...but despite the draughts and unfamiliarity this new home in the West feels like a haven in a storm. It does feel as though I have been parachuted into someone else’s life and although it’s pretty sweet, it isn’t mine...yet. It’s hard to believe that I got through the past six months without going totally insane and waking up with white hair or going on a rampage with a large axe. The final weeks at Moorside House were so painful that I think some kind of post traumatic thing may be lurking under the surface but this blog post is about now and trying to look forward. It’s hard but I’m trying to let go of all the bitterness and hatred I’ve felt over the eviction and concentrate on the wonderful opportunity I’ve been given to make a home in arguably the most beautiful part of England... and this time it really is on a mountain.

The North York Moors were part of me before I was even conscious... the big skies, the smell of the heather and bracken... but I cant pretend I have always felt welcome (too posh, too common, too hippy, too vegetarian!) I’ve lost my confidence and trust in other people’s good nature, and I don’t want to jinx things but look what I found in the wall along the footpath - I can’t help feeling I would have been unlikely to make such a discovery on Snilesworth Moor. 

If I believed in fate or divine intervention I could tell you a story that began a few years ago with a walk up Catbells or a sketchbook page completed in the early days of a relationship while still mourning the end of another, of strange coincidences, random twists of fate and a failure to salute at magpies which made me either the most unlucky girl in all the world or the luckiest.

So being here with no telephone or internet has meant that I’ve been in a bubble, not managing to draw or do much ( other than chopping firewood and feeding the ravenous stove) but I’ve been looking at old sketch books and projects which have in someway been inspired by the Lake District, wondering what, if anything I will do next. Packing up 15 years worth of “stuff” has given me a horror of making more “stuff”... I gave away, burned or recycled so much old work that a fresh start is called for... however, somewhere in New York is this sketchbook page which gave me a jolt when I saw it again tonight. My new home is exactly under the jewel in the Magpie’s mouth and the message could not have been foreseen when I made it over four years ago!

Well, one thing’s for certain, there is no turning back and luckily I’ve already met some lovely people here and even sorted out some part time work in a gallery which is a massive relief; but what I have learnt so far is that it is impossible to underestimate the impact of potential homelessness and the hidden costs of eviction and relocation - emotional and financial. Having somewhere to call “home”, that is warm, clean and comfortable is a basic human right and in the last weeks at Snilesworth with no heating, contaminated water and snow adding to the bleakness, I was acutely aware of how LUCKY I was... I’m no Pollyanna but I had a place to go to, I had help from a partner, family and friends and one day it will be OK. What about the people who face this with none of that support, those sleeping rough, families evicted for no reason? I think it ‘s vital that private sector landlords are made to behave responsibly and that the rich and over privileged landowners like Toby and Fiona Horton are held to account for decisions they make... hiding behind charitable trusts that are really a form of tax avoidance and claiming to be supporting farmers and the local economy whilst dismantling communities and caring nothing for the people whose rent pays for their lifestyle.

Ok, rant over..for now. My trawl through old projects also found this mock up of a climbing chalk bag which I’m quite pleased with, especially after a visit to the Keswick Museum yesterday where there was an interesting exhibition on 3D mapping techniques.

Its been so long since I had modern methods of communication and the time to write , that I’m in danger of waffling on until you get cramp or fall asleep so here is a picture by Beatrix Potter of Newlands Valley .... my hope is that I will be able to skip along the path up Little Dale with a straw hat and a sketch book on hot summer days and that maybe soon I will be filled with inspiration and the creative muse will reappear in some form and lead me off on new adventures. Meanwhile, thank you for still being there, for all your support through the dark days and I hope I can keep you amused with tales of my life on this new mountain. x

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

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