The tactah woods

A big surprise in the woods.

In the absence of any actual grandchildren

I have taken the liberty of hoping 

to virtually amuse

a blogger's grandson

(who I happen to know likes tractors),

while she is indisposed.

Through leaves 2

This autumn may not have boasted
the finest display of flaming colours
in this neck of the woods,

but there's never been a better year

for soft shoe shuffling through leaves.

Ripples, ruffled feathers and troubled waters

Calming scenes for me to focus on
as an antidote to a deranged phone caller.

Someone decided to have a wholly unexpected go at me yesterday

and I am having difficulty banishing

the upsetting exchange that ensued, from my thoughts.

(Not family, friend or blog-related I hasten to add,

but a particularly choleric individual
newly arrived on the periphery of my life.)

For one day only -

this garden.

And for one night only -
son and daughter-in-law singing together
in Bach's Magnificat.

The allure of the past

 I'm not sure what I feel about 

Alastair Hendy's Home Store

after my second visit at the weekend.

Experiential shopping taken to extremes.

Who is buying the 

Denby and Woods Beryl Ware china

(aka Anglican china)

and ostrich feather dusters?

They aren't cheap here, but elevated to museum status

in their meticulously contrived vintage setting,

they exert a curious pull.

The fact that the same things can be found 

down the road in one of the many junk shops

at half the price means that people must be

 willing to pay through the nose for

the scent of the real open fires and dusty floorboards

if this oddity is to survive.

His window dressing is pitch perfect,

the attention to detail obsessive,

but the place has a haunted,

not a happy atmosphere.

It reminded me of Dennis Severs' house,

another time capsule experience

dominated by the personality of its creator.

I went in with my camera,

and wandered about in a slightly hypnotic state

but came out empty-handed into the chilly street 

with a feeling of relief.

Sun salutation

Yesterday. A jewel of a day.

Today. 

 I have been driven to knitting wrist warmers

for my cold, cold blogging hands.

They are the colour of the lichen

on the net hut roofs in Hastings.

Looking up

Keeping our chins up

after a difficult week.

Good weather forecast for Sunday.

We will make the most of it.

The Play of Light on Domestic Objects

A small part of my portfolio 

in support of my application 

for a prestigious new position.*

The Professorship of PLDO is my dream job.

It will be a challenging and high risk role

but I think that I am ready to make the leap

back into full time employment.

The five years I have spent

blogging away in the foothills 

have not been wasted.

Some turned their hands to 

quilting hot water bottle covers,

others to knitting snoods for financial gain,

but I resisted the lure of monetisation.

Now the world of academia, hitherto closed to me,

has come just in the nick of time,

to claim me as one of their own.