The Adventures of Freddie - part 1 (probably)

Littlest has a new task. One that will hopefully distract her from missing, too much, her biggest sister, who departed for university, yesterday - lots of those I-wish-I-didn't-have-to-say-goodbye-and-where-have-the-past-19-years-gone? hugs, and Mummy and Littlest tears after she had gone.

The biggest sister took one of Littlest's fleeces with her, to have in her bed and left Littlest with a cherished teddy called Freddie. Littlest has promised to look after him until biggest sister gets back (in December; that's a lot of looking after!)

So yesterday, we took Freddie on 'an adventure'. To an apple festival. At Audley End.

Littlest quickly marched us through the all-things-appley marquee; briefly glanced at the Suffolk Punch beast of a handsome horse; lingered longingly in the gift shop - twice!- hurried through the Victorian kitchen re-enactment; spent an age trying out all the swings, slides, ropes and climbing frames in the play park, and marvelled at the falconry ... briefly!

And Freddie joined in:

Buckaroo!

Climbing

Falconry

Peregrine falcons swooping down with more G-force than a fighter jet are a bit scary for bears, so it was a bit safer hanging around at Littlest's knee height

Littlest 'found' Freddie a friend in the gift shop

And, today decided that one friend wasn't enough, so baked him a gingerbread one - with a broken arm (not sure if Littlest, or Four-Legged-Friend, who was trying ever so hard to help, got the arm)

Note: the icing sling! Parental influence??

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Colour, Delacroix, flochetage and why don't we all have a go at inventing words

Yes - it is a real word. Flochetage. Well, a real-ish word. One invented by the painter Delacroix, when he found the dictionary cupboard bare and required a word to describe his technique of layering different coloured paints, using lightly pulled brush strokes to create texture and pattern and thereby enhance his base-layer colours (... lost? - stick around, read on and all will become clear. Or perhaps muddier ...). Flochetage implies both stringiness and threadiness. Apparently. And it sounds good - in a filling-the-mouth-with-sound sort of a way. Try it ... flochetaaaage. Not that I speak French. So I am probably mis-pronouncing it. Nor am I an artist. So what do I know about painting techniques - except that I think this one works. What I do like is the concept - you invent a new technique in whatever it is you do, hunt around for the vocabulary to describe it, find the dictionary is lacking, so make up a word of your own and announce to the world what it means. Delacroix isn...

Curlews, summer skies and walking in circles.

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Heaven clearly can't wait. Ranting and screaming inside. Growing old and lecturing ... myself, mostly.

What follows should come with a warning - it is a preachy rant. Stop now if you're not in the mood for a lecture. Or, if you're into procrasti-reading, read on and (hopefully) enjoy my latest piece of procrasti-writing. Apologies too for the reference to elderly leakages. And farts. And now, for being deeply irreverent. Sorry. Heaven can't wait. Meatloaf was wrong. Clearly the 'band of Angels' is impatiently putting together a gig. There's a party happening which we haven't been invited to. Yet. What a terrible year 2016 has been, so far. And we are barely dipping our winter-wrapped toes into Spring. Is it that the roll-call of those summoned to a higher place grows ever more poignant as we age? Prince was but a few years older than me. Victoria Wood, a meaningless number of years older still. Meaningless because what does age mean astride the long plateau of middle age before the eventual slide into decrepitude? A few years here, a few there - we...

Walking The Dog

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