As I write there is a party going on ,somewhere on the moors at the back of the house, loud music can be heard through the trees.I wish I could go and join in, there aren’t enough parties round here anymore. Instead I’m customizing some clothes because I can’t afford all the lovely things I want from Desigual! The discharge paste I got from Ario works really well so I’ve been making stencils and screen printing on to t-shirts and this dress,which is my “survival project”. I’m just going to keep adding bits to it , like a kind of wearable journal, an autobiography dress!
Here is my shadow portrait, taken after a battle with the moles. (I lost. They laugh in the face of mole traps and lawnmowers, “ha ha, you can’t catch us, we will build mountains out of our molehills”) Talking of gardens,I recently rediscovered this poem by Anne Drysdale, who once lived here ( at the farm next door actually).She wrote books about her life as a single parent/smallholder/writer ,living in Snilesworth and I really love this in particular…
In the last knockings of the evening sun
Eve drinks Calvados. Elsewhere in her life
She has played muse and mistress, bitch and wife.
Now all that gunpoint gamesmanship is done.
She loves the garden at this time of day.
Raising her third glass up to God, she grins;
If this is her come-uppance for her sins
It’s worth a little angst along the way.
A fourth. Again the cork’s slow squeaky kiss.
If, as the liquor tempts her to believe,
The Lord has one more Adam up His sleeve
He’s going to have to take her as she is –
Out in the garden in a dressing-gown
Breathing old apples as the sun goes down.