shouldering the burden

For over a week I have been feeling very sorry for myself. An old shoulder injury came back to haunt me and I have been fairly immobile and full of painkillers, wincing and moaning and feeling generally crappy.

It is easing away now, and just in time as over the next few weeks I have to work long hours doing 'piece' work for a rush order of plastic flags for a company in the village. It pays well but is rather sporadic. It's not what I want to be doing, but at the moment is a necessary evil. Today is my last day off for a while!

I was so glad the sun shone this morning. 

 

I have had to lay off the knitting for a while as it aggravates my shoulder, but managed to finish off the squares for a cushion cover - all laid out ready for assembly.

The Country File photographic competition is upon the nation once again. So I set out with my camera for a short stroll round the field a couple of streets away - just me, the dog and the cat. Always a strange sight!

I don't think I managed to get any winning shots - and the animals are as far from wild as you can get - but they are so cute I can't help myself. 

I suppose I am going to have to get all extreme with the weather of the time or the situation to get the shots I really want! 

Poor old Jemmy having yet another rest. 

Reality check

This week is the week my two subscriptions arrive. Country Living that I have been an avid reader of for about 20 years and Molly Makes, a relatively new mag my mum subscribed to for my birthday last year. 

I sit ALONE with a coffee, wearing my jimmyjammers and slippers, curled up on the sofa, and look wistfully at the artistic shots of gorgeous homes, spotless sofa's with perfectly placed blankets and patchwork quilts, a farmhouse table with vintage bake ware ready to be used for high tea, mixtures of old and new furniture artfully arranged, a bowl of dust free pebbles collected on the beach, at the end of the cottage garden. 

I dream of how I can transform my little terraced ex-mill workers house into a haven of eclectic ephemera, how magazines will clamour to photograph it, how I will swoosh around my home in long silk kaftan's and hand knit cashmere socks (that never get grubby underneath), slump onto my reupholstered patchwork chesterfield sofa and admire the glorious garden through french doors softly draped with shear linen that billows in the warm air. 

This whole scene is so far removed from reality! I wonder how close to reality the magazine images really are? Has the owner of the house spent days scrubbing, polishing, dusting and tidying up? has an artist been around thoughtfully rearranging items into a perfect tableaux? Is there a huge box of plastic toys just 1 foot to the right of the shot? are the kitchen cupboards crammed full of the Ikea crockery they actually use? is the 10 foot trampoline packed away in the shed? and where do they hide the washing machine?

A jealous part of me hopes it is all an illusion - but the romantic in me hopes they really do live in these serene surroundings.

Here are 2 photo's taken in my tiny sewing room today. The first is the arty shot. The second is the reality check!