... and a sit down? Do come in out of that wind ... Just lovely to see you! Did you get caught in that shower? If we were meeting for a quick catch-up, inspired by the lovely and talented Abi, I'd be popping your coat over the radiator to dry off, and showing you this photo I took on my phone in a new vintage-y tea-shop last week. I just couldn't resist ...
As we went through to the kitchen, I'd be asking you whether you are an Indian or herbal tea person or a coffee-lover. I'd tell you that my new favourite is Apple Loves Mint; I'm trying to cut down on the number of cups of tea I usually consume though I suspect, between you and me, that since half of them are left sitting around the house in states varying between luke-warm and stone cold, I may not take in as much as I think I do! And as we laugh and I make our beverages, your attention might be caught by the view through to the back garden ...
Yes, it's lovely, I might say, though not as brilliant in colour as last October, alas - we've had a rather dank and soggy month. And as I checked with you whether you'd like a biscuit or one of my little gluten-free cakelets, I'd be asking what it has been like where you are - is it different from year to year? I am always fascinated, I'd explain, by how things change: how the pattern of seasons is similar but each, in itself, is different. If your eye fell on the apples, I'd assure you that you were quite right - with those irregular markings, they are not a supermarket purchase but windfalls from a lovely friend ...
And if you were interested, I'd lift out from underneath the wooden bowl my thirty-year old faded copy of Farmhouse Cookery, and show you how I had just been browsing The Puddings Hot and Cold section and marvelling at how so many recipes are linked to a place. We'd roll them off our tongues like a travelogue: Nottingham Pudding, Dorset Apple Cake, Malvern Apple Pudding ... I'd be wanting to know if there are recipes with place-names in your home area too? Then I'd carry the tray up the half-flight of stairs to the living room, and you might comment on our funny internal architecture. Inbetween the showers we might be lucky, as we sat on the sofa, to see the sun breaking through. This time of year, it's low in the sky and spills across parts of the house which don't normally catch the light. I do love it, I'd tell you...
With our hands curled round our cups, I'd be longing to hear how things are with you. What are you enjoying creating? Is there anything you feel you are letting go of? Is there anything you're wrestling with? I might share how I often find autumn and winter a time for paring things down ... though what with getting out the woolly cardigans recently, I'm piling on the layers rather than taking them off! Ah, layers, now there's a subject we could talk about for hours :). And we might smile and talk a little about the parallels between life and scrapbooking. And if you asked me how things are with me creatively, I'd tell you I am stuck; mired in a kind of dilemma about paper/journalling/bits and pieces scrapbooking, versus digital photobooks. I can't decide what to do, or what to do where, and am now so fed up with myself that I can't even bear the not-deciding! We might roll our eyes and giggle a bit at how over-dramatic that all sounds. And I'd ask if you'd been following Julie's most enjoyable Going Postal series, and I'd pop into your hands my first ever delivery of washi-tape and ask you which was your favourite ...
I might wonder aloud whether you had felt a kind of waning energy in the scrapbook world, and if perhaps I am imagining it - have you noticed anything, I'd ask? We might quietly speculate whether the (hugely successful) Project Life phenomenon has decreased the interest in or need for designing, exploring, experimenting - or whether I am way off beam! What's your own sense, I'd been keen to know? I do love to hear others' views ... Can I refill your cup for you? I'd tell you how much I have been admiring all the quilting, crocheting, knitting and sewing I see on my blog visits - and asking if you find yourself branching out into other areas? My Mum was a wonderful needlewoman, I muse, and we might leaf through her inspiration books together. I'd tell you how much I still miss her, and alternately berate myself for not having learnt more from her while there was still time with wondering whether it's not too late to start ...
And before we knew it, it would be time. I'd fetch your coat, nicely warmed through and dry by now and I'd stand watching you gather your things together, feeling so glad you'd come and a little sad that you are going. We'd remember all the things we had meant to ask each other and promise "Next time!". I'd warn you about the piles of slippery sycamore leaves underfoot at the top of slope and to take care. And I'd wave till you were out of sight, hoping you had enjoyed our time together and that at some point you'd reach into your pocket, and your fingers would find the little roll of washi tape you liked ...
