Life Lately

It’s been a mad march; haring around, sorting a million and one things. We have so much change and excitement coming up. This, my first Saturday close to home in weeks, was dedicated to pootling around with Tom and feeling the (cold damp!) wind in my hair.

Sunday was a rare DIY day, complete with painting, sanding and drilling. We’re getting ready for holidays, last work days and a possible new houseguest.

Soon I’ll have much more time to spend writing and catching up with the lovely creative blogosphere. Michelle, Kat and Kathleen have all been inspiring me to write more and strive to create a beautiful web space of my own. Do you have any other reading suggestions to inspire?

Moments with Strangers

We caught the early light down on the seafront, whizzing down on our bikes, surprised by the bite in the wind, and feeling bad for the Rusts, who were cycling east in the headwind to visit us for Mother’s Day brunch.

Brunch supplies in hand, we walked back home up the steps in Northwood Park and bumped in to a delightful woman; a bundle of wispy grey hair amidst layers of multicoloured wool, shepherding an old springer spaniel in her shadow. She quite decidedly stopped us for a chat and we were swept along in her talk of finding missing gloves, temperamental animals, and local walking routes.

I love the little connections with unknown neighbours that stretch just a little beyond ‘how’s the weather’. These early spring days are filled with a million things, but a five minute stop on a chilly path reminded me to just slow down for a moment.

Monday Mornings

I have only four more of these Monday mornings headed Up Mainland, before these plans kick in full time. I’m trying to enjoy the early starts, the extra coffees, and motorway mayhem, knowing that in less than four weeks I’ll be having none of it.

So, for now, my mornings go something like this.

6am wake-up: with Radio 4 and the gentle negotiation over who will have first shower and consequently forfeit the default lie-in. I’m usually up first. Strangely, Tom doesn’t spend so long with the hair dryer.

Coffee in the grinder, kettle on, and a general fret over what to wear, specifically whether I can get away with spending the day in trainers.

6.30am breakfast: better be happening about now if I’m to catch the ferry. After granola/toast/yoghurt/all of the above I faff around in a haphazard fashion until the radio pips push me out the door.

7am walk down the hill. The way the morning light grows every day feels like the most optimistic thing. Gravity is with me on this easy stride down to the sea. No more dark, windy, rainy mornings. Now it’s just the long downhill to summer.

7.15am boat ride: across the Solent. At it’s best a peaceful, spacious glide across sunlit seas. It’s not always at its best.

7.45am skate: across Southampton to my parked car. Addictive fun. Don’t know why I didn’t think of this two years ago.

8am battle through Southampton traffic: to wherever I’m headed first. Today, it’s a visit to a nursery to see how they support children’s talking through play. I hope your Monday morning is a good one.

The Five Ingredients of a Good Coffee Shop

There are few things that I find myself overly opinionated about, but coffee shops are one of them. You could say I should shout about something more important, but then you would be failing to realise quite how important these beverage stops are.

Done well, a coffee shop can be the centre of a community, a welcome slice of calm, or inspiring dose of conversation. For that to happen, the following things are non-negotiable.

Seriously good coffee
The kind that tastes good in its simplest form, without the need for extra froth/syrup/gingerbread toppings.

Friendly staff
Surely everyone prefers to start the day with a genuine smile and a few easy words. Extra points for remembering the regulars’ usual order.

Free and easy wifi
An internet connection that really works is a rare treat. So many places promise wifi, only to offer the equivalent of a string and a tin can.

Carefully chosen music
I like to hear what different staff will choose in the morning: always a better variety than radio, with the added delight of no radio adverts. If you host live music events, all the better.

Plenty of space
Like it or not, the coffice is a real thing. The busy hum of a cafe is the best thing for focusing on a task. I like space enough that I can sit quietly in a corner and finish my thoughts, even after I’ve finished my coffee. That only works if you’re not taking up the last table in a tiny hole-in-the-wall (though I do love those places too!)

With good music, plenty of space, and friendly baristas who know the locals, you have the makings of a genuine community space.

Other seemingly-unimportant things on which I hold strong opinions: campsites, banter, and acrylic wool. I’ll save those for another day…

(This post was inspired by my favourite local: Mettricks.)

2014: The Year in Books

2014 was the year that I discovered my love of nature writing, the slow pace and startling discoveries made by others. I often plough through fiction and forget much of it, but I usually hold on to the pictures painted in a nature book: the creak of a wild wood in Suffolk, the buzzing insects on a still day in New Mexico, the dark peaty depths of a Cumbrian bog in November.

The natural world is pretty incredible, in its vast greatness and its tiny delicacies. I suspect we are all struck breathless by it at times, yet we don’t talk about it very much. Instead we talk about the immediate: our next meal, what’s coming up on the channel, or what he said to her yesterday. So, reading the words of someone else, hearing how nature inspires us individually, feels like a joy shared.

My favourite book of the year was H is for Hawk. Helen Macdonald’s tale of taming Mabel the Goshawk is wild, beautiful and heartbreaking. With her exploration of wildness, our place in it, and how we choose to respond, it was the perfect read to end the year.

I’m starting out this January with Badgerlands: a delve in to the dark, deeply trodden trails of badgers across Britain. With thoughts of Grahame’s Badger and his perfectly appointed winter kitchen, it’s a good book for the season.

With thanks to Laura who got me reading (and writing!) more these last twelve months.