Dormouse is as dormouse does .

Humankind is divided into larks and owls .

The lark is perceived , in many quarters , to be the better/more worthy person . Some of this comes from the Victorian " early to bed early to rise makes a man healthy ,  wealthy and wise ". Coupled with the Victorian factory owner who wants his factory on full production at maximum profit and minimal cost .
 Some of it also comes from people who make a virtue of what they want to do anyway or as a way of feeling superior/more disciplined than their neighbour (having , I'm guessing , little else to distinguish themselves) .

This winter I have heard so many people saying they are struggling much more than usual with the cold and dark for some reason .

I , myself , am an owl .

 This winter  it has been so convivial to sit by the fire , late at night ,drinking tea or wine deep in frivolous conversation or watching something cheerful on the television . So convivial . Equally how pleasant to go to the bathroom and then snuggle back in the soft warmth again .


The saxophonist used to sometimes play with a very good key board player . Daytime he was a teacher before he retired . Finding he needed more money ( chiefly for sheet music and gin I believe ) he took extra work at home marking exam papers in the evening . Gradually , on retirement , what with gigs and gin generating exam marking his hours slipped round . Eventually his regular time to get up each day was four in the afternoon . I don't think it bothered him in the least .

Whilst my time has been productive and as the blog shows we have been out and about , keeping regular hour has been harder this winter . A morning gone sometimes , a bed time that would have the Victorian factory owner reaching for the smelling salts .

So what I want to know is this . Am I the only one ? Does it matter ? Have you erred so to speak ? Is it as the saxophonist says "no big deal " ?

So doctor is this normal and if it is what hours do you keep ? I  refer to those of us who have unencumbered free time, be that in the week , at weekends or a mixture of both .
I'm curious .......

It's rough at the coast today .

We have just got back from the coast . It was rough and it was dark . The sea was liquid jet as it rushed up the harbour walls .

It winked it's inky eye at me as it played hand ball with a small fishing boat in the harbour . Slapping it this way, slapping it that way.

The wind flew round and through the metal struts of the old pier .

Slowly , then , a very small container ship came along . It sat low in the water with a single line of lights along its side and a bundle of them at the back .
In the dark it looked like a viking long boat being rowed in and the mournful sound from the pier sounded like the men singing to keep the rhythm of the rowing .

A dress for the slightly less tall ............

I'm six foot and super slim.

Actually I'm not. I'm thin ish but only five foot two and three quarters. That's a full foot shorter than the saxophonist .
This is a regular opportunity for him to make what I like to call "height ist " remarks he imagines to be funny .
 In an attempt to avoid these  he has ,  variously , caught me climbing up supermarket shelves to get a tin , taking a  running jump to grab something from a high shelf and almost tumbling into a supermarket chest freezer that was particularly deep .

I do , though ,  have pale blue eyes ( thanks Dad ). We went to London earlier this week and into a dress shop that is that bit too expensive.
I  indulged .
Six dresses in all but they will last . Think Margaret Howell .
When we got home I put on the pale one . It was a perfect match for my eyes . That's not arrogance , it's gratitude ..........also pay back for the deep freeze .

Earth , Wind and Fire .

It has snowed and it has laid . The icy rain is not moving it very much at the moment . Someone has been out and built a small snowman . The thing stands conical and pristine on a small patch of grass  . I am trying to think of spring and there it stands mocking me . A jolly snowman . It was all I could do not to go over and kick the little bastard over .

I've looked at the BBC weather site . It's going to get a lot warmer and we will have actual sunshine on Friday . Oh hurrah , hurrah , hurrah . I'm off the wall with Michael Jackson , I'm hearing it through the grape vine with Marvin Gaye , Kool and the Gang have turned up and brought Earth , Wind and Fire with them . Kid Creole and the Coconuts are warming up .......I imagine you get the picture . In short , I am in celebratory mood .

So we are putting a down payment on summer . Trusting that those lyrical lovely days will come again , that the seductive landscape may sweep us into it's arms again . Now . obviously , I can't put my sandals on and bare legged begin my stroll through summer . But I can, as they say , make a down payment . A deposit . Stake my claim as it were .

So duffel coats , stout boots , woolly hats , thick socks .

We eat hot salty chips and drink fizzy pop . We watch the ferry , looking like a show boat from the American south , blazing with lights as it comes in . There are tiny pinpricks of coloured light all along the far shores . Enclaves of warm cosiness dotted in the darkness.

I climb out of the car hair blowing like a Medusa . It feels as if the wind could easily slice the features off my face like a knife cutting through a lemon . I peer down the cliff , through the stinging rain to the beach . Far out a line of white foam froths and bubbles . The tide is out . But we know , don't we , that as the tide will turn and come gushing in , the year is beginning to turn too .
A gleeful thought if ever there was one .

January day .

I am writing this in the car as we wind our way through country lanes on route to Bury St Edmunds . It is a pleasant occupation especially as its a cold , rainy landscape . Being warm and dry counts for something at this time of the year.

The idea is to go to the market . It is a particularly good one for local produce and what is not local is very good quality . Now we are staying put it feels right to continue with the annual rhythm of cooking good seasonal food and squirreling some things away . So its time to make some marmalade . This year I have a mind to make it with  blood oranges.  Yes , I know that some people / shops have taken to calling them something else . I'm assuming this is for the pedantic or the over sensitive . I am not susceptible to this sort of twaddle.

Oh , there's a scarecrow in a boiler suit . Several rooks practice vertical takeoffs  and ignore him . Sorry , got distracted .

So blood orange marmalade . It should be ruby hued with just enough peel in it for tang . Right for a thick slice of soda bread hacked off the side of a homemade loaf , well toasted and treated to an unjustifiable amount of butter . It's good , as well , to give out the odd jar to cheer somebody up in this bleak weather .

Four fat geese on a green field looking like washing blown from a line . Concentrate  Angela .

More geese marching round a pen this time . I think geese like rain . I know that deer do . The saxophonist is driving cautiously along this stretch of road, as we often see them hereabouts . They will surely be running today . Rain seems to compel them nearer the roads - don't know why .

Sugar. I must buy extra sugar too . Sometimes I use brown to subtly alter the taste or the colour . White feels right here though . It will keep clarity on the jewel like colour of the blood oranges . It will also bind it to this ride reminding me of how white the rain filled sky was as we dodged the deer on the way to the market.

Commonplace book.

I keep a commonplace book , I have done for years . It's full of quotes from books, plays and films , things I've been told or overheard.
I've been collecting up all the scraps of paper from the last two years to add them to the book . Some of these , on reflection , will not make it to the cut . Some are still striking and they go in . Others I have no memory of where they came from or why I wrote them down .
Below are four that I came across whilst sorting through .  Which do you think will be making it into the book ?

"Take no notice of anybody you don't respect."

"Have two projects on the go , then its not a choice between doing it and doing nothing ."

"Do not mistake kindness to yourself for weakness ."

"At one point you broke wind so loudly it set off two car alarms ."

A bit of a find.

I had a bit of a find a couple of days ago.

In summer we have a couple of huge cotton quilts on the bed. When the temperature dropped like a stone the saxophonist got the duvets down and put them in the mix.
We lay like mummies hoping the heat would build - useless .We clung together and listened to the sound of two sets of teeth chattering   (  definitely not sexy ) . Having the window shut just kept us awake longer to consider how cold we were.

The saxophonist admitted he thought he might have got the thinner ones down . I gave him what I like to think of my withering look.We hauled out the other set . "Oh joy "I said, "toasty warm , totally tropical , we shall sizzle like sausages". He gave me what he likes to think of as his withering look.
Marital harmony and warmth was restored.

"What's in that other box" I said. He pulled it down and there were three boxes of crackers in there.
Now this may seem like small beer to you but not to me.

Everyone has that scrap of the childlike ( not to be confused with childish ) joy left in them.Yours may be carol singers on Christmas eve , a slice of chocolate log , the tree.
Mine is crackers.
I don't just like crackers I adore them . With pre Christmas offers and late December sales it is not unusual for me to get through six boxes.
The rustle of the paper .  The enticing weight of one cracker over another . The paper hat. I do like a good paper hat . Some years if we have been invited to lots of parties come new year,on my side of the bed,there is a small pile of hats. A few pierrot  and pirate hats but mostly the coloured tissue hats from crackers.

It is part of my Christmas to lay down in the dark in a hat . I drowsily turn over and the hat does not , it just makes a decadent rustle as I drift off .
Of course  the gift is not to be sniffed at . This year I have acquired two water pistols , two fortune telling fish and five Freddie frog novelty rubbers (erasers if you are American ). I have had through my hands and sometimes been able to swap black plastic moustaches that make your eyes water , mini yoyo's , tiny skittles etc etc.

Crackers are never banal to me . I never tire of them and I now have three more boxes to savour.

In a cold dark January , in the dormouse days ,  its no bad thing to put on a party hat and go back to a nice warm bed .
Try it .

Happily wrong.

So, six months on from my last post and a new year. Life got in the way ,  but here I am , back again.

The seductive landscape got so seductive that we decided to move into the landscape. Goodness, I had forgotten the realities of estate agents and property viewing. Without exception every estate agent I had dealings with I would , in other circumstances cross the street to avoid. I will spare you the detail of all the properties we looked at. I thought I was cynical enough to know when  "box room "meant cupboard and when  "garden " meant three plastic chairs on four paving slabs with an uninterrupted view of the bins .....

We wanted an older property of character and looked at all possibilities. In the end I got into the habit of saving the less dreadful and the new possibles on my chromebook. One evening we came home from more heartbreak, dog mess, broken fences, view of the back of pound land. I sat at the screen and idly clicked through what had arrived that day. I clicked on one - I promise this is true - and gave a whoop. I called the saxophonist "we can afford it , it has everything we wanted and it looks lovely " I bawled. "Oh hang on".
"What " said the saxophonist walking into the room and over to the screen. We both looked at this latest estate agents e mail and then at each other.
It was our house.

We went to the local pub a while ago.There was a mobile phone on the path.I picked it up. As we walked in I spotted a teenage girl frantically looking on the floor and under the tables. I checked the name on the phone and walked over to where she was talking into another mobile.I asked her for her name and handed it over. She said into the phone "oh I've got it back from a lovely little old lady". I said  " not so much of the old ". The saxophonist brought our drinks over and I told him. He roared with laughter. I told him it was not funny . He said of course it was as I was the least likely candidate for that description and that the girl was not much more than a child and anybody over twenty five was ancient to her. I calmed down. But I remembered it.  Oh I remembered it on those mornings when I looked tired or felt the passage of time.

Fast forward to another night. The saxophonist wanders through "fancy sharing a bottle of wine down the hill?" he says. I pull on my boots and coat and slap on my fedora against the drizzle. I have not put my hair up , I am not wearing makeup and I have not changed the clothes I have been wearing all day.  We go into the unusually crowded bar. There is a group of men in their early thirties standing and drinking together. They are well heeled , intelligent looking - not bad looking either. As I pass one of them looks me over and says , in a loud voice , "MILF" . I pretend I have not heard it and keep going.

Now , children what did we learn today then ?
Well , I think we acquired a fresh appreciation of what we have got and how lucky we are to own it .
I think we also learned about picking your audience and having faith in yourself .
I cherish our home again.

 Was I insulted to have a credible stranger call me a milf ?
  Hell,no ! I grin every time I think of it .

So ,children look afresh at what is commonplace to you , what you take for granted and what you doubt about your life and yourself.
You may find yourself happily wrong.