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Good egg

If you rustle up a pan of eggs and one or two go a little wonky, who gets the bad eggs? Who gets the perfect ones?

When you have a choice to give or keep the best of things where does your heart go? Does your head agree? Do you find conflict there?

Don’t all eggs taste the same ?

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We recently visited a favourite charity shop .

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Ten years ago the man who ran it helped us rebuild our home.

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From bin bags of ridiculously bargain priced build- a- bear treasure , for a wide eyed little girl, to cosy patchwork blankets, and spotty teacups , wellies and mittens, story books, props to draw from in art classes ,warm woolly jumpers , and glittery vintage handbags at a fraction of what they should cost.

Steven saw us coming and saved us lovely things. He quartered the till receipt. And smiled his lovely big smile as he loaded our bags into the car . He made us feel like we were special and that money changing hands was less important than us having these new shiny belongings.

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And as we absorbed and marvelled at this incredible warmth, we realised that it not only radiated to us, but to every one of the customers and strangers entering the shop. Like an octopus with supersonic peripheral vision, he juggled new and old faces, their questions, needs, and deliveries with the same joy and kindness. Steven was just kind.

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When we moved house, most of the belongings we no longer needed were returned as donations to the shop, and it occurred to me that plenty of loyal customers must circulate their things, feeling as we did that it a gave a little of the positivity so freely given by Steven himself.

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Then sadly, a couple of years ago, after being out of the area for a few years, I heard that Steven had passed away. This legend I’d always imagined saying hello to another day, popping in next time we visited the town, enjoying another wonderful rummage in his Aladdin’s cave, this lovely person was just gone.

Tragically Steven’s smile and energy masked his underlying health conditions and a weakened heart . Hearing this news felt like there was a gaping gap in the universe where his enormous kindness and thoughtfulness helped so many people .

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Why am I telling you this now?


Yesterday we went into the shop for the first time in about five years. It was quiet and neat and tidy. A lovely lady asked if we wanted the light on in the changing room, and was attentive and helpful

At the desk with our purchases , she enthused about how nice they’d look. I took the opportunity to say how sorry I was to hear about Steven, their colleague. The lady nodded and breathed deeply. This smiling welcoming woman was Steven’s mum. We talked and I told her how proud she should be of all the joy he brought, the lives he impacted on and I probably only knew a fraction of his legacy. She gave me a hug, both of us barely holding back the tears. But, rather than sadness, it was joy she felt.

She told me that conversations like this one, (because I was not alone in my impromptu affection) A lot of customers loved her son; and knowing she was still living how he lived was her tribute to him, and how she could get up each day and feel him with her. She was a wonderful lady, of course she was, she had to have been. And we were sad to leave that day.

For Steven and his family, a shining light and an extremely good egg.

In life we are thrown the challenge of every possible personality type to try to understand, appease, blend with, help, teach, parent, care for, love, respect or fear. People don’t come with rule books and often wisdom; so innate in the young is lost somewhere in the middle of our complex lives. Within homes, friendships, work situations, we can battle on, trying to impress those who have chosen to look the other way. People who for their own reasons try to dull our light.

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Sadly, we can often find pivotal relationships some of the hardest. The big ones are the make or break of our foundations, which we either model our behaviour on, or endeavour not to mimic. These relationships should be the glue in our lives. The mortar to our bricks. There is often a sense of power in the mix somewhere. It is no surprise then, how hard it is to walk away.

Positive energy is infectious.

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Unfortunately so is the opposite

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Once the floodgate opens to negative flow, you don’t want to stand underneath.

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Just as good stuff grows, so does the bad. Affecting us physically and mentally..

My studio ceiling recently spring a huge leak in the storm. KP has spent days scrubbing away at the black ceiling. Horrible stinking mould spread in blossoming storm clouds and it stank. The damp air crept into bags of art materials and fabrics. Without his intervention and no nonsense attitude with bleach and gloves, the mould would have killed everything in there.

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Positive and negative energy from human beings is not dissimilar. Would you rather stand down wind to a bucket of mould spores or a packet of wild flower seed?

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So let’s reflect upon the often very difficult decision to redirect our good energy. The shedding of harmful characters in our lives,  even those we might be related to , who perpetually feel the need to squash, scar , crush, and undermine us, wrapping their beliefs up in love. Those who mask bad behaviour as love.

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A healthy respect for another’s existence and ways is a wonderful thing. Providing space to flourish and develop as a human being is how we begin , how we then teach, write, get out and do things and establish another generation of grounded humans. As an adult, we get to re create some well walked paths, especially if they weren’t as solid as they could have been. Now, if a battle ensues when you look nice or have a new idea, or create a piece of work or express an opinion: causing doubt in your own beliefs and identity, are you sure its you that needs tweaking?

Love does not judge. We can spend our lives trying to attract the attention of a ”loved one” or an audience still crammed into plastic school chairs. Waiting for the moment when all our frantic waving and performing, on the literal and virtual stages of our lives , is met with loud clapping sounds and roses. Waiting for the loudest clap of all from the ones whose backs are turning to leave. We can wave until were not waving anymore, we are drowning.

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Love isn’t rationed by your worth. Appreciation of you is reflected by the company you keep, not the stick you bet yourself with. You were put here to have choices. And to believe in them.

Imagine not lugging around that feeling of not knowing if you’re good enough. (because somewhere deep down, you really know you are). Of trusting yourself and your choice of company because you realise most people are kind. And some are wonderful.

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We often don’t notice the kindest souls, the shining lights, the inspiration right under our noses because our minds are spiralling off on tangents about a tiny fraction of the company we keep ( possibly with the biggest ability to steal our thunder and joy. ) At the root of many of these waspish hurtful relationships is a common thread. We want to please these people the most. We are in that nativity inside a cardboard costume, jelly-like, reciting the line we’ve practiced 100 times to all the neighbours and all our patient pets. And euphorically searching for a pair of eyes in the audience squeezed onto those tiny chairs , when we remember our words and want to validate our moment of glory.

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Why don’t we notice the discrepancies? Because important relationships are meant to provide a mirror for all that you are. They might not agree with you, or approve or even like what you do. But they should respect your life and what you add to theirs. If an adult hasn’t been taught these fundamental skills, it can sometimes be like being parented by another child. You may find that a person meant to be in your corner is unfathomably jealous or angry when you get shiny and show your colours. Contrary to how it feels, this isn’t to keep you safe or crush your spirit intentionally. Although this might happen anyway. Fear drives others to halt our flow of joy.

They see you, but they choose not to let you know that. And all a child wants (needs) is to be seen. Recognised as part of something difficult to describe, safe, loved. Without judgement, a parent (or care giver) sees and nurtures that light. The opposite of this is a sort of resentment and pushing away. A jealousy maybe, or inability to connect. A child cannot solve this riddle, and internalises this struggle as a personal failure.

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Sadly, without a willingness to understand ourselves or others, the status quo remains, worsens, and becomes toxic. If a solution can be found through mutual effort, it is obviously of benefit to everyone. But, changing a conditioned behaviour, or a belief is sometimes incredibly difficult. Ways of perceiving can go back generations, and if you asked why exactly you aren’t allowed to wear those clothes, be gay, go to church, dance on a table, climb a mountain, start a circus, write a novel; the answer would be vague. Because the belief isn’t theirs. It has just always been there. Like the smell of boiled cabbage.

Fixing anyone causing sadness in your life isn’t your responsibility. If it keeps harming you, and you feel you have ticked all the strategies, choose you. Years can go by trying and failing, waving more frantically . That old adage of there’s no pleasing some people is very true. Sometimes, you’ve done all you can.

Sometimes doing more is perpetuating a vicious cycle . And to do the turning away yourself starts to heal, not only you, but them too. Our own responsibility lies in breaking the negative pattern of pain and not creating more.

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The trick to happiness is gratitude. Closing a door is very scary to start with. But on the other side is so much more. Without unhappiness getting in the way, there is space to savour people, taste, light, beauty, ideas, and new shoes. Carry this with you. Be kind first to yourself in a way that you haven’t been given. An exchange can be given to a stranger in a word or a glance or a gesture. Or you may find it in a lifetime of acceptance and listening with one lovely soul. Trust your instincts to know who has your best interests. Surround yourself with good people.

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When you trust in who you are so will your destiny.

When you know your own kitchen you make the best eggs.

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And when life enriches our world with positive people, we too become richer. A way of thinking that builds us, not breaks us. It gives us strength. If we are positive even when we are scared, amazingly it still works, vulnerability creates action and becomes catching, other doors open, your tribe will come along.

Ten minutes in the company of someone like Steven, was a true blessing. His kindness, and selflessness was unique. Making someone’s day with your own particular magic wand is never wasted. There are amazing people out there, who can change your life. I know Leah and I won’t be alone in feeling so glad to have known and been inspired by this lovely man.

Get back on stage, no matter who is watching. Blast your words from the heart, share your ideas, share your creations, share your skills. Trust someone. And see what happens. Look up. It might be your audience have been there all along .

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The thing is with eggs, that like life, we all mess up getting the perfect centre. Look a little closer and there’s enough to go round. Mix it up. Add in something extra. Better to scramble with everything you love thrown in. Share and enjoy xx

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All our love, Liz at the beach hut

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Drawing on


Hello yellow light and hopeful thoughts wherever you are.

The first ray of morning light through my window… – earlymorningchic

In these ambiguous months of daring to hope, but not wanting to feel any more disappointment, we stand on the edge of a life we might step into.

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For some of you, your path might have turned a new direction entirely, leaving you a bit floaty. Reality hovers in a hazy cloud of internet balanced with the real life intense everyday dramas played out in our homes, and nobody knows what the next move will be.

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Thinking about most things only gets us so far.

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Trying to make sense of the changes and losses, and staying positive has been tough. Our sparks of hope might have been dashed too often to stay upbeat . The mundane has taken centre stage over bigger rewards and adventures, pools of simple pleasures between the TV shows and endless meals.

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We have found new ways to make the usual , unusual. Our minds have been busy balancing coping strategies, in essence, the left brain trying to make sense of what is a global unfathomable phenomenon with analysis and logic, whilst the right communicating it’s emotional response through creativity and self expression.

This tender balance of logic and free creative will, is an essential survival recipe , and a basis to nurture your creative process.

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The vastness of our choices, our decision making skills (or not) and freedom of expression shrank in almost every area in the last two years, going out, meeting people, communicating normally, feeding our souls with new wonders and different visual excitements , our vistas shrank. Our pools of reference and the connectivity which established where we were at that given moment was suddenly much smaller.
And what can happen if we are not careful, is we start to forget the things that mattered to us in the time before. Think about when lockdown first happened and you looked trough old photos, reminding yourself of old clothes and cars you loved, people you cared about and lost touch with. It is the same process with the things that you love to do, that enable your voice to sing.

Whole chunks of important fuel for the spirit which we aren’t able to taste for months and months. We forget what beauty and drama is out there as our lives begin to curtail us layer by layer.

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We forget how to express joy at this wonder, because the powerful surge of happiness that comes with that freedom feels like it has gone, or is not as urgent.
But this is when we need it most.

All your thoughts are magical possibilities. Catch them quickly…


Your mind is amazingly curious. Casting out a net of constant questions, and catching all kinds of fishy thoughts, from tiny quick darting silver ones you hardly have a chance to grasp, to thundering great chunky ones that sit in the net taking up space and not letting new ones in. When I was little I asked a lot of the usual questions children do, but was often told to top being silly. So I found listening ears in older relatives who loved to talk, in looking after other people’s children as I grew up, small curious beings who saw the magic in life still, I read and read and found myself down rabbit holes and in faraway trees and
I drew .

And a dialogue of sorts grew in the observing of everyday things around me, seen in a different light. People were fascinating to me. And when I realised that some of them not only talked back but had questions of their own, thanks Gilda. For my introduction into kitchen philosophy at a tender age over a cup of tea.

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Our thoughts like our ideas, our appetites, come in waves of intensity. I can often pack away a problem into a small case in my brain somewhere for days, only to give it a whole unadulterated day to itself later. Have a sketchbook or notebook handy Always!
Art is truly made in the cracks of the day. Padded out from a scribble on a paper napkin or a voice memo in the bath. Catch your inner ideas, they have to battle with a lot of boring rational thoughts. There will never be a perfect time to create.

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But putting together twenty scraps you’ve made over a month in ten minute bursts after the house is quiet in the morning, becomes something real and alive.

What I have come to appreciate is the value of intense creativity. In the central vortex of the act of completing a piece of work, I am lost and meditative. Words are gone and instinct takes over. I knew it was something I couldn’t do when I had a very young child, but you might be more disciplined than me!

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To get to this sweet spot, is a luxury I have learned to value drawing again throughout the pandemic. The child and Bear seem to have developed an understanding of my mental disappearance whilst still being in the room. After 12 and a half years of my ‘mum brain’ being on high alert, and 12 years of being a Stepmother to two small boys before that, it is a lovely escape. Even better because it is shared with others . And all of our life experiences so far feed into those simple drawings.


Sometimes you must put in every tiny scrap of detail in a piece of work

Sometimes the detail speaks for itself and is of itself without words

I know I need to be both of these Artists

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That without one type of creating, the other makes no sense either.
That all these years having to decide which artist I was: was a waste of good thinking time, or maybe it was the path to truly knowing my path.

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Going to an academy or school which pigeon holes you into a type of artist can be a wonderful thing. But it can also deter you from ever trying anything new
My favourite accomplishment of the few years since retiring from teaching art has been to actually finish a painting. As a teacher, every day I would begin a demonstration for each class, sometimes eight groups and new projects in a day. And I would promise myself that some day there would be actual paintings from all these starts. Sketchbooks held a vast ocean of possibilities that I would create someday in the cracks of my life somewhere. These cracks were stuffed with ideas and promises, and inspirations which kept me moving forward.

From stairs in my home

I painted walls for my children, my own daughter and my stepsons. I painted on flower pots and murals and birthday cards and designed things for people. I didn’t understand the frustrating pendulum which kept lurching me from intense drawing to free abstract work.

Murals and classroom walls (below)
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How could you be someone who thinks so much, has so many ideas and also this flowing mass of colour reacting to life through instinct.?
I was, I am still years later. Back in the teaching years it was squished into the clothes and resources and pupil work and in the details, but it was still there. Our true essence is always there.

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We are all many characters depending on which chapter we are in.

There is a wonderful freedom in not abiding by one set of rules for your work. A freedom to experiment with different media and applications.

All the work you do has your stamp on it, and the more you do, the more you you’ll see patterns and rhythms even if every piece if different.

Enjoy your seasons!


Never apologise for the many ways your mind needs to express itself. Or the contradictory ways that joy comes out. My big friend Jim makes fairy gardens. And knits hats. He looks like a biker. His artwork is unapologetic and fun, colourful and so clever. Although he has given me permission to use his pictures, he doesn’t really show his work. The joy that one or two people get from seeing it or getting a gift from Jim is enough for him.

Yvonne teaches English after a career in teaching history, knits, sews, bakes, plants and writes a blog all with the same humble but consistent enthusiasm. Until recently I had no idea she could do half this stuff. The hidden craft skills and beautiful objects she has created is inspiring. Again, mostly for family and only on here because of arm pulling.

Both of these friends are inspiring to anyone who thinks you have to have training, or only do one thing and excel at that and then it only matters if the world sees it on Instagram. Each object they have made is pure and of itself. I think the troubIe many people have is muddying one area of skill with another and trying to cram too much into one idea.

It took me a while to realise with my art that wasn’t working; was the paintings I was trying to put both sides of myself in at once . There was the patient ordered one, who interpreted an object , albeit in a Liz way, and there was the wild one, who was quick to mark make and needed less permission. Once the pressure to perform goes, the freedom to immerse fully in the artwork is wonderful.

It was like trying to please both children with one present, but what was needed was to give each of my creative sides time to explore their path and let go as individuals. The critical voice I heard telling me to choose, from my training at Art College, my familial conditioning, those that sought to understand the work; (and in doing so, silently slightly pigeon hole it) , had to have the volume muted.

And I can tell you, the freedom to do that, although it has taken nearly fifty years is wonderful. I always loved to draw, details, to absorb what I saw and explore the essence of an object in itself. But I also could create artwork which was in itself the rhythms and textures and colours of the thing too.

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We don’t need permission to express multi dimensional joy . Sometimes having a shake up in life is an opportunity to question how and why we go through the day in the way we do.
I’m not going to lie, this last stretch of lockdown, in less than sunny Scotland has been by far the hardest for me. In previous months, the enormity of what stretched ahead was made easier almost by the challenge of it, and what and who needed looking after. Ever the land girls. We just buckled up our cords and braces and got on with it. Not really giving too much thought to the fuzzy future, until the daily chores were done and everyone was schooled, fed, cleaned. Medicated or entertained!
We’ve all been doing that in our funny little bubbles..

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It has been like sleepwalking, living through these months with a fraction of the ingredients we had, and only a few of the loved ones we care about.
But because we have stoicism, hope, resilience, imagination, strength we know we can get to the other side. I have just watched the film birdbox. Sandra Bullock out on violent open river with two four year olds, escaping the end of the world, rowing for their lives, all three blindfolded . Trusting only instinct to get to the place of sanctuary where they will be free.

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Those of us still waiting for injections, still waiting for permissions, for medical procedures to start, for the goal posts to remain still, rather than keep moving, are on a treadmill. The ground feels unreliable. Dare we trust it?

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We just want to get off the roundabout and for the world to stop spinning random poker questions about our healthcare.
I had a bad day. I don’t often get a bad day truth be told. So it was allowed. It was all Facebook’s fault. They chucked up a video post of my Stepfather who died last year. Of a happy pre-Covid Easter where we all fed lambs and chick’s and sat in the sun in their garden. I felt a surge of loss but in a strange way, a renewed gratitude too.

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Very soon, life will resume something different but new. We aren’t the same people we were going in. Some of the ones we had in our world are sadly no longer here. Some people might be less able. Some are suddenly much older, some have left our lives for other reasons, some of us might want to stay where we are, or enjoy it in a way we hadn’t realised. We might not want to do things the same way. Or at least we might want to be more mindful, more selective.

What is clear is that there is no excuse not to be happy in our pursuits.

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I knew I couldn’t do things the same after that day.
Or if I did, I had to know why
Sometimes we have to question who has made the rules we live by, why we do things. Where they come from.
I felt I’d entered the upside down.

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So I decide to give myself

Permission to STOP

NAP

THINK

PERUSE THE AREA
Permission to bathe ridiculously

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Permission to say to oneself …. Really? Do I really want to eat, read, wear, go to that?

To check my thoughts as I did things, and ask if I really wanted to for me?.
To make art at the living room table for 6 hours and watch films at the same time
To reverse all the meals in the day

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To do things in a different order
To stop thinking about everyone else just for five minutes.
What happened? Nothing.
Apart from a feeling like I had the best pair of comfortable big earth shoes on.

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People that know you best might ask if you are ok, but probably nobody will notice.

Most to do lists are only in our heads.

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Moving through the days with an awareness of why made me realise
that I actually do prefer most of the things the way I was already doing them, but now I feel much less like life is on autopilot.

We made it that way because we like it and it works.


In order to get out of your own head for a bit and see if you still fit your seat. Imagine you are in a car, instead of being in the drivers seat, you are now a passenger.

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You are free to watch the road, look ahead, see what’s coming, read the road signs and enjoy the view. You don’t need to be behind the wheel to be on a journey.
Whatever you believe in, and it’s a personal box of magical ingredients for every soul on earth, you’re not alone. There are people on the road with you. Give them a wave as you amble along.

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Being upside down is often the first step to being firmly rooted. Rip up the rules

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Make art that makes your soul sing, making nobody but you happy. And get back in the driving seat of your creativity.

This blog post has taken a while to write as my hand is now cripplingly painful. The bones are fusing and I have to stop regularly. However, finally the fairies have woven their magic and surgery is extremely imminent. I am getting bones removed next week from the drawing and writing hand to make it , hopefully, less painful. So. All this, means I not only have faith in all of you, but in the universe too and in me, getting back to some new creating in a little while, in whatever way we all can!!

Wish me luck my lovely friends!

All our love, Liz and the zoo xxx

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