green revolution

One of the things about a bad back is watching the garden quietly take over. I swear if I open the back door it'll all swarm into the house, the hydrangea will barge past me, the fuchsia will go into the kitchen and put the kettle on, and the passionflower will make itself at home on the settee, pick up the remote, and put the TV on. Time to give lovely younger son a big hug and the shears.

I can still water it, but I can't carry a whole bucket of water. Squash bottle full, yes, but that's a lot of journeys to and from the tap. No wonder Much is rocking with laughter.

The new bear has overcome his shyness and intends to stay. He still doesn't have a name.

Sorry about the crash, that was Much falling off his snail.

Oh, no, not another one

On Saturday afternoon, husband had some free time. He was worried that, because of my ouching back, I hadn't been anywhere for days, so he suggested going out somewhere. I can now walk, albeit not very fast or far, and suggested a pleasant little market town that we're both fond of.

We arrived to see the village church looking very happy with stalls all around it. The church fete! It was three o'clock and they appeared to be ready to shut up shop, but we went for a wander round the stalls anyway. And there on a stall was a lady tidying away cuddly toys into a bin bag.

Most of them were uncomplicated little things who'd be quite happy to play in a bin bag. But there was one sitting on the edge of the table, a sad faced bear with sparkle in his fur, and with a fresh out of the box look as if he'd ever had a good hug in his life. He was as far away from that bin bag as he could get without falling off the table.

What would you have done?

What was I to do?

Bears are never any trouble, are they? They only want a tiny bit of space and a hug now and again.

I thought I was going there for an afternoon out. No, I was there because Hamilton had received a distress call and wanted me to rescue a bear, and we got there just in time.

He doesn't have a name yet, but we have found that he likes dancing (but you have to help him). He's a bit clingy, but I think he's settling in. Only, I suggested that he might like to go and live with one of the children in my life and he wasn't at all happy about that.

Ouch

Every time I say 'ouch'. a very little and rather endearing hedgehog comes and curls up beside me. As I say 'ouch' a lot just now he is never far away, and he is learning to fold down his prickles so I don't get stabbed. (If you don't know about Ouch, you haven't read Urchin and the Rage Tide. Read it and meet him!)

I still hurt, but not as much as I did and I can do most things I used to do, but slowly. It takes me about half an hour to put the washing in and then I have to wait for somebody else to take it out again when it's done.

What is really touching is how good people have been. Family have helped me in and out of chairs, bed and bath. Lovely younger son and the lassie brought me chocolate coffee beans. Wonderful Daphne brought flowers, her own excellent company, and good conversation. Godchildren and their parents brought pain relief spray, flowers, chocolate, laughter, fun and very gentle hugs. The three year old blew me kisses from a safe distance.

Lovely older son had a day off yesterday, so Hairy Husband dropped us off at a pleasant cafe where we could sit outside for a drink in the sunshine. Little things become very valuable when you're crocked.

And many of you have send kind messages, too, which touch me and make me feel very cared about. Thank you.

And more than anything, this has made me think of my heroine the late Jane Tomlinson and all those people who face far worse than this, every day, and come through shining.

Apple

She of the Stories is a bit better than she was, she can walk without anyone to hold on to - very slow, though - and gets better as the day goes on, but she's still stiff and sore. The animals have sent her some lovely flowers, bless em, there was a vase of lilies on the table beside her when I wen to see her, ooh, her place is an a terrible state, it were always untidy, but just now she can't pick up anything off the floor, that's how she done it in the first place. I took her a lovely flask of cordial.

It must have done 'er some good. When I went back she'd finished every last drop and she was able to get out of bed by herself in less than half an hour. Did her more good than them lilies, they'd all wilted.

She says she'll sort out the messages for you all when she's able to. Whenever that is.

Anybody got any mendingmoss?

GNOME
Never seen anything like it in all my stone-gnome life! I mean, 'e's been 'obblin' for weeks with 'is bad knee. Now 'er's proper crocked, by the look of it! Done 'er back, 'er said - pickin' up some box or other, an' it wasn't such an 'eavy one. Twang! Couldn't stand up straight. So there they were, 'im proppin' 'er up and 'er 'elpin' 'im to walk, staggerin' out to drive to the 'ospital. Them X-ray thingies must be somethin' special. They came back, went inside, an' I could 'ear 'em laughin' like anythin'. Odd lot, them indoors. Think I'll stay out 'ere in the garden.

HAIRY BLOKE
That gnome does exaggerate - my knee is nothing like as bad as it was. Which is more than can be said for Margi's back. It's very sore, and she can only move a little bit at a time, and needs someone to hang on to if she wants to get anywhere. The X-rays showed no real damage, and the doctor said she should feel better in a few days. I hope so - it took almost as long to get her in and out of the car as it did to drive all the way to the hospital!

We did laugh a lot last night. Younger son has his lovely lassie to stay, and it's always fun when they're here. We watched a lovely DVD called 'Stardust' - worth seeing if you can get it, it's a sort of fairy-story with a lot of clever ideas and fun bits. We went to bed happy. Stiff and sore, but happy.

So now the Lovely Lady is laid low. I couldn't find any mendingmoss, but I've just taken her a cup of tea. Judging by the smile, that helps a lot.

Mistmantle, cake, and mysteries

Urchin and the Rage Tide seems to be going down well, judging from all the lovely e-mails I've received, so thank you all very much for all you've told me. Sorry to make you cry, but it's the right sort of crying, I hope.

Lady Sunshine is trying to fatten me up. I'm quite capable of doing that by myself, thank you, but this weekend she brought me cake. Then I was in York hiding and getting some work done, and meeting my friend Stephanie at Betty's in York. (Google 'Bah! to Cancer' and you'll find Stephanie, and be amazed.) If you can go to Betty's and not eat something cakey, squidgy, or just sweet, there is something seriously the matter with you. See a doctor (or Brother Juniper) at once.

The mystery is a nasty spotty rash, and not even the doctor knows what it is, but it was worrying enough for me to stay away from my parents in case it was anything infectious (and I was looking forward to going out with them for lunch. Never mind, I could still do dot-to-dot puzzles on my right leg.) It seems to be going away now. (The rash, not my right leg.)

Maybe I'm allergic to something? Definitely not cake.

Hope

They all seem to be reading about Urchin and all those adventures with the Rage Tide. It makes my prickles go funny just thinking about it, after all that happened with Sepia and everything. In the workrooms they're all very busy with making Threadings just now, you'll understand why when you read it. I can't see them very well, but the colours are ever so pretty.

She of the Stories went out with her friend Claire today to look at some amazing Threadings and robes and things in a collection. Now she's very tired and I think I should send her to bed with a nice hot cup of something.

Goodnight

Riding School

No, I haven't been trit-trotting on ponies, I've been on the annual Summer School with Riding Lights Theatre Company. (Google them). Every production I've ever seen them do has been excellent - sharp, strong and pacey - and the Summer School was the same. I was learning about how to write plays, and I did learn, lots.

We were taught by Nigel Forde (google him, too) and I was so in awe of him I avoided him in the dining room for the first two days because I was afraid of not knowing what to say, or - even worse -saying something stupid. However, as a good teacher he drew us all out, challenged and encouraged us, and I now have some beginnings of playscripts to think about.

Isn't my husband a good blogger? I love what he wrote when I was away. I'll get him to guest blog again next time I go on an adventure.

FINALLY - blow a trumpet! Open the fizz! Sing! Throw streamers!

Lovely older son and Lady Sunshine are engaged to be married! Yippee!