It's the little things

Keeping cosy by the fire...it won't make the headlines, but it'll make you happy

"Whipped-up spray that is rainbow-scattered
And a swallow curving in the sky
Shoes so comfy though they’re worn out and they’re battered
And the taste of apple pie.

So I mustn’t forget
No, I mustn’t forget
To say a great big thank you
I mustn’t forget.  "

~ Estelle White, Autumn Days

The last one. Shit. Knew I should have seen this coming.

I mutter and furrow my soapy brow at my only remaining hair-tie sprawled on the bathroom tiles. Its spring has sprung right out of it, along with its usefulness, purpose and raison d'etre. I'd worn it out, putting it to work with a flippant twist, morning after morning after morning after- oh. And suddenly, it just... wasn't, any more.

What if it hadn't been a spindly old hairband that had snapped into uselessness in an unexpected instant? (...can you see where I'm going with this yet?). What if it had been something else round, ancient and pretty darn essential? Tenuous link, I know, but go with it...what if Mr Harold Camping, of Family Radio, had actually been onto something with reckoning the End-of-the-World-as-we-know-it would happen around dinner-time last Saturday? What if he had seen us stop sniggering as he and his followers floated up to the Big Guy in the Sky, as the chaos began below? And what would you have thought when the streets started to rumble forbodingly beneath your feet?

What memories would have flickered behind your frozen gaze, before the lamplight cracked and was lost to the thundering shadows? 

As the "Autumn Days" assembly hymn used to teach our primary school selves, it's not just the big deals that make our world what it is. Thing's don't have to be rare to be special. So I wanted to make sure I remembered what makes my day, every day.
Yeah, this sounds cheesily twee now, but I'll bet many a dinosaur wished they'd taken time to savour their favourite watering hole/tufty gress/Stegasaurus-steak house, as they spied a meteor suddenly casting its mercilessly speeding shadow over the plains...

It's those lazy morning breakfasts...

...and watching the evenings drawing in

Kicking off the sandals for sunbathing...

...but sloshing through the slush too

Hours well spent celebrating with friends...

...or just keeping a book company.

Eating (pizza)  in...

...or eating (pizza) out.

In fact, there's a lot to love about Italia

...like the view from my room

...and my fly (definitely legally obtained) ride, for spinning about town...

There's always the canal-crossed paradise a train-ride away

But the homeland will always be where the heart is...

...with beautiful views of its own.

Knowing that family, and its furry friends, are important, every day.

I've let the pictures do the talking for me, but to summerise: there's a lot that I have to love. And a lot to look forward to. When the lights go out, I'll know what I've been lucky enough to live.

What will you remember?

(Don't be shy, step right up! Leave me a comment and tell me what you're thinkin'...)

On the rocks

"I roamed the countryside searching for answers to things I did not understand"  ~Leonardo da Vinci

     I don't mind admitting it- times have changed. These days I like my leisure served up steaming on a plate or three (don't be shy with the mayo), followed by the swift gestation of a food baby. Either that, or complete with reciept, snug inside some crisp carrier that I can swing merrily down the high street.
I've always been partial to emptying my purse to fill my wardrobe and my stomach- trading money for treats never stops looking like a good deal. But as I glance back at the past few years unfurled behind me, I wonder- how can it be that I've grown, when I seem to have lost my roots?

     Those roots that scuffed my knees and boots, pinked my cheeks with gusts, rays and showers, shot my skin with sea salt and grass stains, drenched me, bruised me, froze me, tired me, tested me... but never anything less than transfixed me. The Great Outdoors- it always has me paddling, trekking and climbing back for more. Or at least it did...

     Cue the Donkey- to pull me out of bed, into my walking boots and back onto the straight and narrow of meandering open fields. Luckily for me, Donkey generally makes a living out of keeping it rural, and can usually be found hoofing up rockfaces rather than cantering down town. So, waking up to find a nearby cove stroll, my trusty yellow Micra and party-food posing as picnic, all swirling around in the big empty sun-brushed Saturday in front of us, we knew what to do. It went a little something like this:

Waterfalls: washing worries and essay tension away since...well, long before essays existed.

It's probably wrong that this makes me want a waterfall-chilled Diet Coke...

Unadulterated Vitamin D

The blue beyond.

Nice boots them shoes...

 Jigsaw for giants.

Picnic spot... spotted.

Riverside rock basking... I'll get up in five minutes...

...or maybe in ten...

Malham Cove: sunbathers-eye-view

Nature keeps things trendy with a spot of colour-blocking

"Every wall is a door" ~Ralph Waldo (...or a stile...)

Grass criss crossed

In Malham we (National) Trust

And it's home time...

...but not for the last time. Roaming the green stuff with Donkey has planted my feet back on the ground, and while they may soon find themselves back to toppling in vodka-stung stilettos, or patiently padding round sale rails, they've had a walk to remember. Because while times might have changed, mud on my hands and grass between my toes has always made me happy. I'd just forgotten how much.