New Moons & New Starts…

IMG_6507

Insert cheesy caption about changing tides here…

Is it just me or did January seem to last for about eight weeks?!

Not that I mind January…

Tucked in between the island weather warnings we are treated to vivid blue skies with sparkling sunshine and a clarity to the air that we don’t see in warmer months; happy breaths of respite amidst the seemingly-endless days of sleet and overcast skies.

I’m often cold but I’m happy in the knowledge that I’m only going to get warmer from now on (I know spring has sprung when I finally regain feeling in my toes. A few weeks to go yet…)

IMG_6416

Clear blue winter skies and the Trotternish Ridge all to myself!

The days are getting longer…
When I visit nearby bothies and tourist spots I have them all to myself (I can wake up and brush my teeth in my pants and wellies looking like a scruffy urchin without scaring anyone -yay!)
In my garden, tiny green spears precede buttery-coloured crocus buds and the pearls of new snowdrops.

IMG_4978

Hullo little friend!

Well, with all that said, I think January is pretty bloody lovely, actually!

I think the reason why it’s felt so long for me is that so much has happened.
Huge things, both good and bad, made for an exhaustingly busy month…

Unfortunately, Rob and I parted ways after almost two years together. Although it’s always sad when these things end, there are no hard feelings between us and we’ll always have fond memories of our time together. Although we realised that we look at life in completely opposite ways I’ll always appreciate the how we got each other through such an extraordinary first year together!

IMG_8788

Back to kissing frogs!

It’s strange being single again though, a weird mix of oh-bugger-here-we-are-again-I’m-too-old-for-this and lovely freedom. I’m not saying finding a partner on Skye is hard but it’s probably easier to teach quantum physics to adolescent piglets…
Suppose I’ll just have to get my own Valentines present this year.

On top of this I travelled back to the South of England to help Mum move house.
Despite being in my 30’s I still count the family home as ‘home home’, even though I’m very much a Skye-girl now (I’ll always be an ‘incomer’ but hopefully I can also be ‘a local’!)

IMG_6836

Bye bye, Meadowview Cottage!

 

 

Some good news has been that my painting sales have been busier than they’ve ever been before (whoopee!) but the real big, red cherry on the cake is this…
I’m now an Ordnance Survey #GetOutside Champion!

Okay, fair enough, if you don’t follow outdoorsy/adventure social media then you probably don’t know what that is (although you’d have to be living on the moon to have not come across Ordnance Survey before).

FullSizeRender[2]

Woohoo, I’m a #GetOutside Champion… They even put up a picture of North Skye to make me feel at home… ūüėČ

To put it simply, I’ve joined a team of 60 of some the most inspiring and exciting adventurers in the UK today. For the launch event in the New Forest I got to meet fellow Champions including Ben Fogle, Shaun Conway, Sarah Outing MBE and a whole crowd of ridiculously awesome humans (and no, I’m not quite sure how I got in there either..!)

I won’t go into too much detail as I’ll write a new post about it later this week but it’s a great honour and, after an overwhelming January, it’s just what I needed to kickstart an awesome 2018.

FullSizeRender

The 2018/19 Ordnance Survey #GetOutside Champions (I’m the one in the middle who can’t quite believe she got in there!)

One of the many inspiring people I met at the #GetOutside launch event was Anna Humphries, a mountain leader, Bear Grylls instructor and generally all-round kickass superwoman. I was lucky enough to be sat next to her at the launch dinner.
Whilst we ate we talked about the rare event of the supermoon, blood moon and blue moon all coinciding at the same time. Amongst her many talents, Anna is fantastically knowledgeable about the universe. She explained about energies and planets and how, after many folk experienced difficulties over winter, good things are set to align this year because of these celestial events.
Now I’m a sceptic with most things but she explained this in such a scientific and rational way… it really made sense.

It’s been quite a turbulent month for me but, you know what, I feel deep down that Anna is right… 2018 is gonna be a good year.
I’m excited already…

IMG_6727

Bring it 2018, I’ve got a new jumper and a cup of tea and I’m ready for ya!

Advertisements

Countryfile Magazine

katieoutsiderabbithole

A photo from the latest Countryfile blog about life in Eden (image thanks to ©Keo Films)

I’m afraid I have been cheating a little; this is no longer my only blog… I have recently begun writing for Countryfile Magazine.

The posts are still about life on Skye but are slightly different from what I write on here in that the Countryfile articles far less rambling and wobbly (I even get the luxury of having them edited for me!)
I’ll post links to each piece published so you can read both.

pigs

Feeding the piggies -a photo from my latest Countryfile blog post (image thanks to ©Keo Films)

My latest blog for them was about being on Eden. Unlike previous articles I wanted to focus on the behind-the-scenes stuff, the positive things and what I want to remember about the experience.
I was even lucky enough to get permission from the production company to use some of the unseen photos taken whilst we were in there (I’ve used some of them here too, courtesy and copyright of KEO films)
It’s the only time I’ve gone into depth about life in there and it’s probably the only thing I will ever write about it so it’s incredibly personal to me.
You can read it here: Life on Eden: A Year of Living in the Wild

robinonnotebook

The resident robin, one of the animal characters I wrote about for Countryfile Mag (image thanks to ©Keo Films)

 

One Whole Year #2: Another type of ‘changing’

FullSizeRender

So my last post was about a year of living on Skye and watching the island alter with each month. When somewhere is so naturally beautiful of course you notice the changes. Life here is defined by the seasons.
Even those who don’t work out at¬†sea or on crofts¬†have to mould their plans to suit the shifting hours of daylight. We rush about to get things done in the short days of winter and then, in summer, it seems like the sun has forgot to set and all our hurry disappears.

When I arrived here I didn’t realise I’d gradually become more attuned to the seasons.
In fact, I didn’t realise how much¬†moving to Skye would change me in general.
I suppose it shouldn’t be a surprise considering I opted for an entirely new lifestyle…

10858421_558350635913_7366291859306969634_n

Do I fit in yet?

Here’s what’s changed…

Firstly, I am now cold-proof.

By that I don’t mean that I no longer get the sniffles (although living away from the crowds does mean that you catch bugs much less frequently) -it means that I’m now well-acclimatised to the Hebridean weather.
There are many wonderful things about living in a big old house but warmth is not one of them; even with a full¬†fire and the heating on full blast it still doesn’t always warm up fully.
95% of my skin remains covered year-round and I’m no longer bothered that I can see my breath when making a cup of tea or that I can’t feel my toes when I get up in the morning.
Now I actually prefer being cold, it makes me feel hardy (though what my guests think might be another matter!)

IMG_2317.JPG

There’s no such thing as cold when you’re wearing the right socks

I no longer know what day it is.

This is a peculiar thing that affects most people I know on Skye. We run successful businesses and go about our daily lives with no issue at all but, when asked, we often can’t tell you if it’s a Tuesday or a Friday. Though it’s easy to tell when it’s a Sunday because everything’s closed.

IMG_4311.JPG


I care less about money.

Although I sometimes enjoy the high life, I’ve never really been fussed about money (I did choose to become an artist, after all!)

I’m sure this lack of interest¬†might come back to bite me in the bum one day (hello pension!) but right now¬†on Skye¬†it just doesn’t seem to matter as much. Whilst it’s nice to have¬†enough cash to travel or eat out, the best things here are free.

That said, I’m not living the life of a monk.
As the quote goes, ‘Beware of artists as they mix with all sections of society’… ¬†So I might seem to do fancy things, but it really is all by association.
It’s lovely to be invited to swish events but at the end I always go back to the house where I put on an extra jumper on to save on bills and ball up my receipts so I don’t need firelighters. Although the cost of living here is significantly less than London it’s still nice to need less.

IMG_4368

A night staying in a mountain bothy costs nothing. It’s not fancy but good fun

*On the topic of money, I thought I’d mention one of my favourite things about Skye… there’s less of a¬†class system here. Yes, there are differences in wealth but everyone is part of the same community and generally visits most of the same places.¬†
I always think of the jobs up here being like in a children’s story book or tv show; there’s the postman, the bus driver, the shopkeeper, the doctor… and they’re all respected in the same way. I think that¬†this more¬†level playing field is great.

IMG_6917

You don’t need much to enjoy the view


It’s not just money, I also need less ‘stuff’.

When you don’t have many shops around it forces you to buy less stuff. The thing is, once you’re used to it you realise it’s not really a hardship.
When I went home this Christmas we went into a huge shopping centre and found it kind of gross how people were rushing around with piled-high trolleys grabbing at gifts without thought. It just felt a bit excessive; not what Christmas should be about. I think living on Skye has made me more aware of that.
Of course, I still enjoy shopping (duh!) but I do it far less and I only buy things I really love.
Perhaps, too, it’s also a stronger link to the environment that has made me more aware of the impact of limitless consumerism and the effect that has on natural resources.

12494748_575049321613_3130756081427741033_n.jpg

When you do beach cleans it makes you realise how much stuff there is that we don’t need (this was from Duntulm beach last week -sad irony that this is the only turtle I’ve seen here)

I eat differently.
Living on a croft has made me look at dairy differently; when you see the connection between a mother and calf each day it becomes hard to justify drinking milk and supporting the process in which it’s made.
So I swapped to almond milk and now try to eat vegan food as much as possible, although I am happy to eat certain animal products like our neighbour’s eggs or local venison.
However, my views on food are now somewhat long and complicated so this is perhaps a whole other post for another day…

11150284_563772894663_6644213860567546486_n

A mummy cow on the croft

I don’t think an adult in a backwards cap is odd anymore.

In England a fully-grown, 30+ male wearing a baseball cap the wrong way round would be seen as ridiculous. Here it’s not an uncommon sight… Something to do with outdoor adventures, mountain biking and snowsports.
Maybe they’re just big kids or something.
Actually, I take all of that back, I still think it’s really weird.

IMG_9720

Dude, I’m not sure about your hat…

So, there are still some things that have stayed the same.

As I mentioned at the end of the last post, I don’t think I’ll ever get bored of the beauty of this place, each light and season shows something new. If I ever get jaded then maybe it’s time to move on.

IMG_4311

Still a delight to see cows on the road

Here’s what hasn’t changed…

Sheep.

I still love sheep… And cows… And buzzards… And all the other animals that¬†we¬†come across each day here.
If I have to brake to a halt in the middle of the road because of a load of sheep crossing then I’ll still get my camera out to take a picture. I’m also probably just as likely as ever to post it to Facebook with the tired old caption of ‘Skye traffic’.
I still find them charming and characterful and I’m pleased that that never faded¬†away.

11227907_575043004273_2930963022139245920_n

I see ewe, baby!

I still enjoy dressing up.

Of course, a glitzy¬†party dress isn’t going to see as much of Skye¬†as a pair of waterproof trousers and a tatty old Barbour but it doesn’t mean there’s no reason to try.
Although it’s frivolous I always try and put on a sprinkling of glitter with my perfume each day and, whilst my high heels gather dust, wellies don’t really look so bad with a sequin skirt…
Or maybe they do, I don’t know, or care really. You can’t have a bad day if you’ve put a little sparkle into it….

FullSizeRender

A rare chance to scrub up at the Polo Awards in May

I’m still the same shape.

Whilst I’m not fat I’ve never been particularly¬†svelte or skinny either; I love food and I’m happily soft and a bit squidgy.¬†But I figured when I came to Skye I’d spend all my days out roaming the hills or battling the sea. I’d be some kind of muscular, athletic superwoman.
I didn’t reckon on the cake factor…

11986429_573287222873_1892200236715644977_n

Afternoon tea at Kinloch Lodge

There’s so much good food on Skye, dammit!

If I look out of my window I can see the cafe¬†that does the best brownies I’ve ever tasted (Single Track, by the way, it’s amazing, go there).
If I drive down the road I reach Skye Pie where Simon and Kirsty sell their little pastry-wrapped bundles of deliciousness.
Then there’s the freshly-baked artisan bread at the Skye Baking Co or the lovely afternoon tea at Kinloch Lodge…

On Skye there is no escape from good food!
With the rough weather it’s been less about burning calories and more about burning logs on the fire with a nice cup of tea.¬†I’ve put on a whole stone in weight since I moved to Skye!
Though maybe that’s why the cold doesn’t bother me so much now…

12573746_574947575513_7650625284807972652_n (1).jpg

Festive treats at Skye Pies

I still love a party.

Of course, parties don’t come up very often here so when they do it’s a real treat.
My only problem is that now I get so excited that I tend to go too hard too soon and therefore render myself completely useless for the next few days!

I’ve been lucky enough to be invited to a fair few estate parties on the mainland since I arrived here. The new friends I meet think I’m a wild party girl from Skye; what they don’t know is that I’ve just been saving it up for months so I’m like some kind of human champagne cork.
There’s been some funny stories as a result, but I’ll save those for another day…

IMG_0752

Uh oh…

So there have been some changes and some not-quite-changes. But it’s amazing to learn what happens in a year.
I wonder what adventures there are to come in the next one…

One Whole Year #1: Changing seasons

11899887_1617264678545620_1116574331622541376_n.jpg

Just enjoying the view

Well, time runs away and the weeks fly by… I rush about from here to there, busy busy busy; too occupied¬†to have sat down to write a blog post for months.
Then all of a sudden an anniversary passes…
One whole year on Skye.

In fact, that was a few months ago now. I’m not sure what happened to this quiet island life; the last few months have been a blur of artwork commissions, Christmas travels, catch-ups and birthday celebrations. Barely a pause.

 

12072552_572000341793_5975182174268400255_n

Celebrating one year on the island with a fire, bubbles and a tasty Skye Pie

As some of you have noticed, I haven’t posted much recently. I think it’s because I’ve got so much to write about, loads to tell -it’s a bit daunting to know where to start!
But I’m making it a New Year’s resolution to get back on track. My most recent comments have been so kind and encouraging that I’d be an idiot not to try a bit harder!

So, one whole year on this magical island…

Firstly, “yah boo sucks!” to anyone who thought I couldn’t hack it!
Have I said before about how some folk here say you have to do three winters on Skye before you’re accepted?
Well, I’m not sure about that. I think that an incomer here is probably always an incomer; I’ve met people who have been here for forty years who are still considered ‘new’ (probably a good thing as it means I don’t have to change the name of this blog yet)! But acceptance is another thing. Skye folk are so wonderfully kind that I never felt like an outsider; they’re always welcoming.

 

11204430_564607552003_2872934465202792274_n

One of the locals

15 months here means that I’m halfway through that supposed three winter period and I’ve now seen every season on Skye.¬†Well, almost every season…

Ignoring the tourist hoardes, summer on Skye is supposed to be a little bit like paradise. Don’t scoff, the Scottish summertime is stunning. It exists, I’ve seen it. I’ve even caught a tan.
Only, this year it didn’t come.

Every time my family asked about the rain¬†they would laugh and say, “well, you did move to Scotland!” My defence of the West Coast¬†weather was rudely undermined by the daily drizzle.
Luckily this isn’t the norm; even my poor neighbours and landlady were apologetic that I wasn’t experiencing the best summer Skye had to offer. I didn’t mind, it just gives me an excuse to stay on and try another one!

 

11329925_566743017513_4344100320440306406_n

Moody shifting skies

Although I still haven’t got the chance to explore in a T-shirt there’s still been some beautiful days.
When I lived in London it was wonderful to return to the family home and see the seasons change. At our cottage in Chiddingfold it’s a treat to see nature changing; the colours deepen and the smells emerge.

Seeing the seasons in the English countryside is one thing but up here it’s even more intense. Being immersed in a dramatic landscape means noticing all the changes on a grand scale. Whole swathes of hillside turn from dark monochrome to bright green then to hazy purple then vivid rust before back to snowy black and white again. Sometimes at sunset the light catches these colours in such a way that they look like they’re on fire. There’s nothing like it.

 

IMG_5651

‘And the rest is rust and stardust’

WINTER

I arrived on Skye in winter on purpose. It was to be a 6 month escape; close the doors, light the fire, curl up with a whisky, read a book. Time out. Hibernation.
This didn’t happen.
Aside from the obvious fact that I well and truly got ‘Skyejacked’ (brilliant term, not my invention!), I actually found it hard to stay inside when there was so much exploring to be done.¬†Wind, rain and cold are fine if you’re dressed up properly to protect you from them so the weather didn’t bother me.
Last January/February was one of my favourite times here. Of course there was the epic January storm with 100mph winds that caused havoc with 4-day blackouts and damage to houses and crofts. Not great. But after that there was a period of calm with fresh snow and bright blue skies that made everything dazzle. It was crisp and soft and quiet in a way that seemed magical.

10410374_563772949553_529980111811207261_n.jpg

And all at once I saw a crowd…

SPRING

There was an unexpected surprise that came with moving into my cottage. As the ice thawed and the days became (slightly) more warm I noticed a little spot of white appear at the edge of my snow-scorched lawn. Snowdrops!
Over the next couple of months I would rush to the window each morning to see what had appeared. First came the snowdrops, then the gold of a crocus, then a purple crocus. At one point, like a joyful finale, my whole lawn was covered in daffodils in various shades of cream and bright orange egg yolk.
I’d never been interested in flowers before, suddenly I’m a convert.
Of course, spring blooms go hand in hand with baby animals and on the croft I was surrounded!

 

11149444_563772769913_9150242185028382573_n

New arrivals

I would wake up in the morning and drag my groggy body down to the kitchen to make myself a cup of tea. As I stood at the sink for the kettle to boil I’d look out the window and right there in front of me would be a couple of tiny calves with their new brown skin gleaming in the morning sun like freshly opened chestnuts. Then I’d take my tea to the porch at the other side of the house and watch the lambs run and jump about in the field like little boisterous wisps of cotton wool. It’s like living in a children’s picture book or Easter card.
Forget therapy or medication, you can’t have a bad day when you wake up to this. If there’s anything more joyful than a miniature calf bouncing around like an overgrown excited puppy I’m yet to see it.

10653753_564677581663_2508151214615675152_n
SUMMER
The less said about this the better. How many words does the British language have for rain again?

 

 

10731068_557979270133_8133025683256761174_n.jpg

Loch Mealt and Beinn Edra in autumnal colours

AUTUMN

Skye excels at beautiful landscapes; it shows off -an A* student. But there was something I missed about autumn¬†here…

There are very few trees in the North of Skye and, of the ones we do have, only a small fraction are deciduous; the sea and the wind up here have scoured the landscape making it bare of all but the toughest plants. So no shifting palette of rich oranges and golds, no rustle of papery leaves leaving their branches, no smell of leaf mold to breathe in as you wander. It’s a season for all senses; you can feel the changes with your eyes, ears and nose.

In an uncharacteristic turn, autumn in the North of Skye seemed to me to be more subtle. It can begin with vibrant purple heather blooms in September but most of the flowers seemed to be hiding this year, made shy by the constant summer rain. Instead the hills slowly turned from one colour to another, bit by bit, quietly.
Then one day, when driving along a normal route, the sun will break through the mist and pick up the rust colour of the recently-green hillside. It’s a colour so vibrant and intense that when caught in the light it can look almost crimson; reflected in the glow of an early autumn sunset it sometimes looks aflame.

12118645_572172541703_6551645273049583843_n

Russet hills beyond the Loch Damh

In October I was invited by an old friend to spend some time on an estate near Torridon. On arrival our lovely host took me out on Loch Damh¬†to pick up some of the other guests who had been up on the hills all day. On our way back the sun was setting on the russet landscape and I exclaimed with joy at how beautiful the light and colours were. My friend turned to me and said, “But you live here, don’t you see this every day?”
I smiled.
Every day here¬†is different. Each morning brings something new; a new colour, a new species, a previously unnoticed view ¬†-it’s one of the things I appreciate most about my Scottish home.

12119153_572261174083_8221924648370610769_n

Taking in the hills

Whilst I adore¬†the writer, Samuel Johnson, when it comes to Skye I’d prefer to give his famous quote a James Boswell kind-of spin…
When a girl is tired of the Highlands & Islands she is tired of life.
There’s still so much more to be seen…

Philosophising over a Portuguese custard tart

So I’ve been working on a load of posts about what I’ve been up to over the last month. There’s a post about staying at my favourite castle hotel, one about raving the weekend away at Skye Live and one about a trip to the Outer Hebrides following some boy troubles.

For some reason the writing hasn’t come easy. I keep writing bits here and there but it’s been a struggle; I’m not sure why.

Then sitting at home this evening, under a light dusting of pastry flakes, I felt compelled to share some thoughts…

Portuguese custard tarts (Photo by leitesculinaria.com)

Portuguese custard tarts (Photo by leitesculinaria.com)

It’s been an average day at the gallery. Nicely busy, lots of interesting folk popping in for a chat, normal, good.
After work I nipped into the Co-op to buy a few bits and on my way to the till I noticed a pile of reduced pastries. Amongst the doughnuts and croissants there were¬†a couple of Portuguese custard tarts, an old favourite of mine that I haven’t had in years. I dropped them into my basket.

After supper I put the kettle on and made myself a cup of tea.
It’s a tempestuous night tonight and the sea was dark-grey and dangerous-looking. It’s unusual to see such large, angry swells in the bay and I perched on the windowsill to watch the waves crashing. There’s something peaceful about watching something so powerful from the safety of a warm home.
Also, I think there’s something humbling about knowing how powerless you would be against the force of the water. A reminder of how insignificant we really are.
As I thought about this I shook a tart from the paper bag onto a plate and went to take a bite.

But I didn’t get a taste… I got a clear-as-a-mountain-loch memory.
How is it that tastes and smells can yank up the past so much more vividly than sights and sounds?

Biting down into the pastry I got slingshotted back in time, all the way back to when I first discovered Portuguese custard tarts…

I was in my mid-twenties living in South London. On Saturday mornings my boyfriend and I would¬†wander down the road to the farmers market that was (is?) held at the big church near Oval tube station. We’d nose¬†round, deliberating over which flavour sausages to have for brunch and what type of cheese we might like to nibble that evening in front of the telly (we were softly rounded in that contented-coupley kind of way).
If we felt indulgent we would pick up a couple of treats from the Portuguese cake stall to distract our appetites on the journey home (Oval has a large Portuguese immigrant population and these people know how to make good cakes!)
One day we decided to try the custard tarts, cajoled by the little handwritten sign telling us that they were a handmade speciality.
The tarts were delicious. The pastry was crisp with sugar at the edges and chewy at the bottom where it had gone all eggy and soft. They left a strangely fatty, grainy feeling in the mouth but it didn’t matter; we’d found a new favourite.

Oval farmers' market, South London

Oval farmers’ market, South London (Photo courtesy of City & Country Farmers’ Markets)

That must have been about 3 years ago now and this food-induced flashback made me think of how much life can change.
Maybe not all of a sudden with a shocking tragedy or lucky lottery ticket… just bit by bit.
‘Then one day you look back and everything has changed…’

I often think about how confused 2011 Katie would be if she was suddenly transported into the position of 2015 me.
I wouldn’t recognise the place I live, the people who spoke to me, I wouldn’t know anything.
It’s a funny thought…

C.S.Lewis

C.S.Lewis

Just few years ago I was living in an average flat with a nice boy in an okay part of London.

He’d put on a suit in the mornings and go to work in his government job. When I wasn’t at home trying to paint I’d be selling overpriced polo tat in the Burlington Arcade to fat sheiks with world-class ponies. In the evenings we’d slump into our Ikea sofa and watch TV until it was time to go to bed. Once tucked up he’d kiss me on the cheek then roll over and start snoring. I’d lie awake for hours staring at the ceiling.

It was a nice life. I’d become a bit introverted and didn’t go out with our large group of friends much but it didn’t bother me. My boyfriend was a good guy. I’d just sold my first painting over ¬£1k. My family was happy and healthy.

Fast forward 3-4 years…

I now live on my own in a big old croft house overlooking a picturesque bay. Every morning I wake up to the sea and the hills.
I’m not wealthy but painting commissions are steady.¬†I couldn’t care less about money; the majority of things that make me happy are free. I indulge in my passions, particularly in regards to the environment.
I’ve sloughed off all the fake mates¬†and I now only have a small group of friends who I see rarely but love dearly. We party hard when we meet but when they leave I like to go back to reading quietly by the fire.
My family is now a 14-hour drive away but they’re still happy and healthy. I’ve now met my father, found out I have two beautiful (mostly) grown-up half sisters and my parents have reunited after 28 years. Also, we now have almost as many dogs in our entire family as we do people.
I’ve been through an illness that took me into hospital one week a month for a year and I still keep an overnight bag ready in case I’m admitted again. The outlook on life it gave me was worth every moment of nausea and pain. In hospital I saw¬†how short life can be; every chance and adventure should be grasped tight.
I also smile at stuff more, spontaneously, like a loon. Like earlier today when I stopped to wait for a chicken to cross the road. I was almost late with all the animals on the road this morning but I amused myself by wondering why this chicken might be trying to get to the other side.
When my head hits the pillow at night I’m out like a light.

'Traffic' on my way to work this morning. Animals on the road drive me mad as they're always making me late but they make my drive a bit cheerier.

‘Traffic’ on my way to work this morning. Animals on the road drive me mad as they’re always making me late but they make my drive a bit cheerier.

Don’t these¬†sound like the lives of two different people?

I’m thinking hard; trying to sieve through the categories of my life to find out what’s still the same.
Other than getting continued love and support from my favourite people (and the art career) there’s not much, barely anything at all…

However… I still enjoy custard tarts.
(Even though Co-op custard tarts don’t really come close to the authentic Portuguese ones we ate back in London. Those were pretty special)
But, though the quality of the pastries has got worse, I’d say that my life is unequivocally better.

As I said in a previous post, I had intended to return to London life this Spring. I was going to get back to little rented flats and brunches in Clapham.
But I can’t leave yet, my life here is just right for me at the moment and I couldn’t change it now. Even a proper custard tart isn’t worth going back for.

52d68f9c44bf0673dd947e634b8dc380

I wonder what’s next..?