Hello and lovely to see you! If you were popping in today, I'd be glad. "I've got the kettle on already!", I'd tell you.You'd probably smile and we'd laugh at how here in Britain we drink tea whatever the weather. And I'd add that as it is still so nice today, despite the recent sharp rain, I wondered if you might like to sit outside? There's a little bit of a soft breeze but we should be sheltered on the little veranda of the summer house - and we'd walk down the side path and into the back garden. I'd gently pull the leafy branches of the head-high maple to one side as we threaded our way through to the bottom of the garden and you'd settle comfortably on one of the old and slightly creaky wicker chairs ...
When I returned with the tray and some fruity nibbles, you might be looking into the wood, listening to the raucous squawk of the pheasants down by the stream, or smiling at the young squirrels chasing each other up and down the bark of the willows. Or you might be turning round and peeping through the window behind you. "Would you like to see inside?", I'd ask. "I'd love to show you! It's one of my most favourite places". As you reach for the old Bakelite handle of the left-hand door, I'd have to explain that, counter-intuitively, the right-hand one will open - one of Himself's little quirks, I would say, and we'd smile :). Then we'd go in ...
If you wanted to know, I'd tell you a bit about how it has changed down the years: from a simple wooden hut with a platform at the end where our children and their friends played and had sleepovers, to the insulated and pine-lined space it is now. I'd point out Himself's latest addition: the double-glazed panel (saved from an old back door when we had the renovations) inserted with hard graft and love into the roof above the desk in order to give me more light for crafting in the summer. I might teasingly explain it has leaked once or twice in the recent heavy downpours, but you would hear in my voice how truly grateful I am to him and how much he means to me, as we celebrate our thirty-fourth wedding anniversary this weekend. As we wander further in, you might wonder about the prints on the wall, and I'd tell you how they were originally illustrated pages from an old book which my librarian Mum rescued from a pile tossed onto a skip ...
I'd probably joke about my annoyance on noticing that I hadn't ensured the top of the pictures were perfectly aligned before your visit and we'd giggle about how our character traits tend to show up in our creative endeavours too. And if you asked whether we ever use the sofa bed, I'd tell you, yes! When my brother is able to come and share being with Dad for a weekend, we can hand over the intercom at night and sleep looking up at the stars. Our dearest daughter likes to be down here sometimes when she visits, revelling in telling her office colleagues that she sleeps "in the shed at the bottom of the garden"! We might sit for a while, you and I, as we sip our drinks, looking across the lawn - and I'd ask you where you like to scrapbook or journal or do your artwork. Always in the same place? In different places according to the seasons? Or the time or day? And I'd share with you how much I marvel at the wonderful skills I see in my blog-visiting, how crap I am at card-making, and how thrilled I was to have been sent these from Becky (Becky's Scrapbook Burblings) and Yvonne (Do More with Less) ...
Your eye might fall on the window ledge, and your hand gently pick up the tiny little wooden boat as you ask me about it. I'd explain how special it is, for its recent voyage has taken it halfway around the world. It has belonged to Deb (over at Paper Turtle) for a quarter of a century and, on finding it recently again, she thought it might enjoy sailing with me :).
As we go back out and sit on the vernada in the warm sunshine again, I'd be keen to know if you were doing any online classes, and whether you take them to consolidate skills and explore more of what you have, or to try something unfamilar and new. And if you seem interested, I'd share with you how I find myself longing to be able to draw - just simple things to add into my scrapbooks, and to include more of my own handwriting. You'd probably laugh when I told you I was practising different styles, just like I did on scrappy pieces of paper when I was thirteen! And I'd love to know if you have any hang-ups about your handwriting, or whether you are quite at ease with it ... Before long, we'd probably hear the Town Hall clock striking and you'd be exclaiming about the time. We'd shake the fruity crumbs off our laps onto the (weed-filled) lawn for the birds, and wend our way back along the paving stones and past my bike ...
As we rounded the corner, I'd be telling you how I am determined to get back to riding it regularly but am ashamed of having to get off half-way up the hill and push - and at the moment it's either that or burst a lung. I'd be hoping you'd either reassure me that you're not incredibly fit either or, if you are, give me words of advice and encouragement :). By then we'd be ducking under the hanging baskets in the porch and perhaps stopping to look at the wall-pot of gerberas by the front door ...
Then we'd be saying goodbye. I'd be telling you how much I'd enjoyed our time together, thanking you for coming all this way, and wishing you a safe journey. I know that inside that I'd be hoping very much you'd like to come again, already looking forward to seeing you again even as you turned to wave ...
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With many grateful thanks to the lovely Abi, who is hosting this wonderful meme over at Creating Paper Dreams. If you are still thirsty, or you find yourself just needing a cup over the next few days, do pop over and see her. There are also lots of delightful places to go from there!