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 )

Snuggled by the stove with the last of the Christmas cake, a slab of Stilton and a pot of strong coffee. The cat is asleep in a perfect curl on the round footstool and I can't hear anything but the crackle of the fire (ok thats a lie, the computer is whirring annoyingly but I didn't want to spoil the picture ... actually if you could see the picture it would be spoiled by the fact that my head is caked in hot henna and wrapped in cling-film and a bobble hat- but for the moment you must imagine I'm looking glamourous in some sort of cashmere lounging outfit). Proper Winter came and changed everything; even if it was for just a weekend. It's easy to be cynical and mock the sudden glut of snow scenes on people's Facebook pages, the childlike excitement when snow is forecast, the birth of hundreds of slightly muddy, doomed snowmen but here in rainy grey England there's no denying it is an event that can still seem magical... so long as you don't have to travel anywhere and it doesn't go on too long.On Thursday, waking up to the transformed landscape, I took myself on a tiny first winter ascent of Snab Bank, I had the whole valley to myself, virgin snow, spirals of spindrift and shocking blue skies not seen for months. Its nearly a year since I came here in deep distress and it felt unbelievably good to be standing in this wonderful place soaking up the light and vitamin D ( although I keep wondering how on earth all those polar explorers managed to keep going- I was exhausted and realised I would be the first to be eaten in a disaster scenario).Last week I mentioned the fact that I was missing my snowed-in time and how important it is to me for some reason. My brother read the whole of "The Long Winter" by Laura Ingalls Wilder when he was here at Christmas and I'm sure it's books like that as well as a kind of Northern race memory (?)  that makes winter such a special and potentially creative time; perhaps its just the enforced stillness. Anyway, I was freezing last week, trying to save firewood, so I finally got around to making a little work space in the small room. It's like a cell or an old fashioned school room... no distracting view through the window when I'm at my desk. I drew things and listened to Howard's End on the radio and got excited by cyanotype again. "Only connect"I am easily distracted and who can blame me with a head full of bears and icing sugar mountains outside the window?So this week I am trying to be more organised and practical... my tax return is done, velvet has been ordered from Glasgow, ceramic printing experiments continue and I've paid the final installment for my stand at BCTF this April. Now I can't sleep with worry and excitement and ideas and panic but as Rupert said this weekend, whatever happens something will happen and it needs to because I can't survive on occasional Etsy sales so it'll either make me realise I have to change direction or encourage me to keep going. The show is in Harrogate from April 10th - 12th and I think my stand is N27 so come and say hello if you're there.Now I think it's time for some music while I wait for the henna to do it's herbal alchemy. Recurring in my head at the moment ..."blue, blue electric blue..."Reading: 'Feral" by George Monbiot  Listening to: "Sound and Vision" David Bowie 

All good intentions have fallen by the wayside already and this, which was meant to wish you a Happy Christmas and then a Happy New Year has now become a distraction from the muddled pile of receipts that is my tax return and the even bigger empty void that would be  labeled " plans for the British Craft Trade Fair" if you could label voids.Today has been a day of melancholy and many jumbled memories after the initial jolt of hearing that David Bowie had died. I've long since got over the teenage obsession (which meant I stayed up all night sometime in about 1983 just to catch a glimpse of his bum in the video for China Girl; before they banned it) but today I've remembered that Bowie really has been the soundtrack to my life and one of the few artists whose music I still actually buy. I've been playing "Bowie at the BBC 2000" and "Heathen" and thinking about a conversation we had at Christmas about the emotional effect of music; I said I found it hard to listen to music that meant a lot to me or reminded me of certain people and places, particularly when I'm alone, and that generally I fill the silence here with radio 4 . Well today it has been loud and wonderful and I didn't even cry until "Conversation Piece" (remix on Heathen) came on (I have no idea why- something in the tone of voice?) and instead I felt comforted somehow, less scared, more inspired and just thinking... wow what a life, what a legacy, imagine how many people are listening to his music tonight and reliving moments from their own precious histories ( I hope that makes it easier for his family ).Anything else seems mundane after that news. Here in my little world life goes on and small steps are taken on steep slopes and steeper learning curves and daily battles are fought against inertia, creative block and the all pervading damp and endless sodding rain. I'm missing Winter as there has been no magical period of snowed in-ness yet and no bright days (another reason I've been slow to write as there were no pictures to show you), just a couple of brief snowfalls that didn't hang around.The most exciting thing that has happened recently was the etching day I went to in Penrith yesterday. We each made a small copper plate etching with aquatint, under the guidance of Bill Cummings and as usual it made me wish I could do more... if only the equipment wasn't so expensive and if only my hands would fit in rubber gloves ( my hands are still grubby even after a long bath listening to a murder mystery whilst viciously scrubbing my ink black fingers like Lady Macbeth). The image of the cottage above was the first print, before we did the aquatint  and a lot of the detail was lost.So I continue to doodle and vaguely plan my long postponed debut at the British Craft Trade Fair, which is in April so that probably means it's time to stop being vague and get  motivated! The mugs I printed before Christmas seemed to sell well so I really do need to decide on designs and start getting serious, it really is no good still wondering what to be when you grow up when you're nearly 49 and life is so god damned short.  Oh to be a fat, furry cat on a patterned rug, with not a care in the world...Best and happiest wishes for the rest of 2016.Reading :- " Maigret Omnibus No.7" by Georges Simenon  Listening to:- Heathen by David Bowie