Battle

Many readers will identify with the painful to watch Versus Arthritis adverts on television . Asking viewers to pledge support for those in severe chronic pain. For those suffering a myriad of fatigue inducing symptoms. I imagine these adverts are met with a variety of responses. Each according to life experience. If illness for you has come to mean an easy, specific and named condition, with a sociably acceptable set of treatments, this no-mans land of auto-immune symptoms will make no sense. Those of you with friends or relatives who have arthritis , may become interested, hoping to gain insight and understanding.

Perhaps you are untouched as yet, and believe the afflicted to be exaggerating. Perhaps you feel a few twinges and you have already begun to feel less mobile, a little weaker, and not so certain your g.p. understands your needs. How much worse does it get? What happens then?

And for those affected personally with a degenerative condition, a body that is consistently affected by weather, a slave to daily fatigue and is aging years too early; maybe your heart breaks just a little bit to see that pain, because you know it yourself and live through it every day.

Living with disease and pain is exhausting. And debilitating in more ways than just your illness.

Bad enough are the daily rituals of pain-easing strategies and positive, life affirming reminders on the fridge, when you can’t now reach the bottom shelf, but sometimes more crippling is the lack of understanding by many employers, friends, colleagues and even family of how to live with and even love with the cards you’ve been dealt .

Unfortunately, it is often those closest to you who can lack belief in the validity of your pain, or why you can’t join in family activities. Employers might lack the understanding of how to incorporate chronic pain into a hard working professional’s life, and therefore write them off as lazy or ‘milking the system’.

A lack of effective financial support, twinned with a lack of information to guide the affected in the workplace, can create a lack of respect for our still beautiful and resourceful bodies and imaginative minds that still desperately want and can give something valuable to the world.

Do you tell ?

  Ironically I often see people desperately trying to prove themselves still able, by achieving double the output of creativity, in half the useable time of an average person; before weariness once again steals their daylight hours.

And although we educate our children in schools, in a plethora of differentiated ways, owning our healthcare needs as valued adults seems to be a different matter. In my classroom for example, a movable trolley with wheels, spaces between desks to navigate my sticks, an ergonomic chair and access to the lift would have saved my early retirement .

Without support to maintain a normal work/life balance and earn a competitive salary, those with a chronic condition are often forced to rely on disability payments or p.i.p.

This does two things. It labels people as permanently unwell, and keeps them in a state of limbo. As an ‘ill’ person , they might feel highlighted under their disability or condition before they are themselves, their old, ‘professional’ self . It can be incredibly difficult to convince the world out there ( and ourselves) that you can be both a, suffering from a degenerative condition and b, you still want to be, or are able to be the same or even better version of YOU.

The second thing that disability payments (or the equivalent) can do, is to minimise the quality of creative life you might get to live after your illness. An artist wanting to make money after being struck with a chronic and degenerative condition had better make A LOT of money at once or not at all. Because sometimes, making small amounts can cause more hassle than it is worth. This is of course, ludicrous. As a consequence thousands and thousands of amazing people who still have incredible creativity to offer the world, are stuck. Stuck earning too little to live on with the usable hours of their day or week. Having to declare any profit on a piece which might have taken months at an hour a day and then potentially losing financial support because they might be deemed able to work.

Sadly, sometimes, others are stuck being dependent on caregivers at home who might not be treating them properly, either emotionally or physically because their illness is not taken seriously, or they become stuck in a cycle of believing that because of their illness, their life force has also diminished. As parents our needs often come last on the list. But truly, unless you take decisive action to get as well as you can, your dependents won’t have the best of you, the rest of the time. Your life force is still there . It just needs a nap.


When you feel in pain, are tired and your va va voom has disappeared, it is almost impossible to tell yourself it will be OK. Prepare a box of nice things, a book, whatever food you love, new pj’s etc. Wrap a couple of presents for yourself. When the day gets really rubbish it’s there as a gift. The white knight might come charging, but in the meantime be your own.

When you live with chronic illness, you are often looked over as unsociable or underachieving because you can look well. That is until you move, or bend or try to walk.  

Then you’re still at the fence

For many people it can put an end to their chosen careers or dream path. Not only because their energy has diminished but because others see their failure and think it is best for them that they give up their crazy ideas. At best this might be justified as being for their ‘own good’. If we see pain, we often feel the need to just stop, not continue and give up for an easier life. But sometimes, your continued belief in your dream scares and intimidates people. How can you still have the audacity to do a brave thing in your condition when they haven’t? We know people react out of love or fear. That’s their fear talking. There is no room for a different, braver version of you. And the longer you’ve been ill, the wearier you will be. It wears you down. It takes an enormous amount of resilience to look past your pain, or your illness, the negativity of others and see yourself still sitting there.

Of course, there are other reasons that domestic situations might be difficult. If you need help with more specific issues click on my blog here :

Imagine a kindly hand in yours, telling you please be brave. On the journey through pain management and recreating a new life there are so many blind alleys to go up , promises and pastures new, magic fixes, gurus, and snake oil. Or you could drown in daytime tv and wine, buy new outfits you might wear if you could only bend your arms a bit more. Or like most of us, swing from one extreme to the other, like a giant pendulum until you rest on where you’re meant to be.

In the heart of it all is your key. The only key you need to navigate and know what you need. How to eat, what to wear to be comfortable, what makes you happy, what you have to offer and who you are, You.

On my journey to this page, I have battled heads of teaching departments, g.p’s, psychotic ex husbands, surgeons, solicitors, the weather and less than sympathetic relatives. But the biggest battles have been with the deterioration of a pandoras box of connected diseases- glandular fever, meningitis, arthritis, endometriosis and lupus. All of which have ebbed away at my energy, my career and my ability to live a pain free and operation free life

But. Those battles, the lack, became my drive. For my sense of self as an Artist, a single mother and a human being; I kept putting one foot in front of the other and vowed to create something every day. To that end for ten years since Escaping, I have written 100 blogs posts, ( today is my 7 year Blog Anniversary)❤ written 40 poems, drawn 200 illustrations , taught hundreds of community art groups, supported individuals and groups in the pandemic, completed hundreds of drawings, paintings, prints, cards and products. And I don’t think I’ve even started.

And I have learnt

  • Our bodies are telling us loudly what we need. Keep moving towards those things. Keep communicate those things to your doctor.
  • Know your rhythm. Completely be ok with it, even if the rest of your tribe think you are bonkers. Today is Happy day. Happy day is the first day of the year when there is enough sun to be outside for more than five minutes. I’ve waited six months. The cold is my kryptonite and grips my veins until I cry. So I did too much today. And it was worth needing to rest all afternoon. (which is often my rhythm anyway) At least there was Achievement too!
  • Accept your uniqueness. Having a chronic illness of any kind can feel like a ticket to a club you don’t want to be in. Let those that love you know what it means and concentrate on what you can do.
  • Accept help without feeling like you are helpless. There are plenty of positive ways to share skills.
  • Let go of activities taunting you because you can’t do them anymore. Who needs to paint on rice anyway?
  • Eat your greens, take a shed load of vitamin c and keep warm. Wear lots of thin layers and use heat patches.
  • Don’t be alone in a world that has become so isolated, but has so much potential. If you are housebound, volunteer as phone befriender for the elderly, find a local group or if you need support in your pain, locate a pain clinic. (These are groups set up to help find ways to manage and understand pain, and meet other people)
  • Rest. When you need to. My dog and cat now get grumpy if I don’t, as we all pile in a heap together.
  • Talk to someone if it hurts, if you’re sad, if it’s a bit rubbish. We all need that. And they might need it too.
  • And obviously, the most important thing is to make some art. Or create, or sew, or cook, or felt, or knit, or grow tomatoes or ANYTHING you can see taking shape outside yourself that expresses joy. Re-wire your brain in this meditative way as often as possible, listen to story tapes, not news, music not noise.

This drive to let the work blossom gives a perspective to my physical pain, and allows me to empathise with others in the same situation. Working together has been my joy. Without the groups and individuals there would be no Liz at the Beach Hut. We inspire each other. Being alone in pain is no use to anyone, but being silent amongst friends is a blessing. Press the link to the next page to see a selection of some of my own work, some of which was achieved on crutches (five years) , with a face full of skin cancer stitches and with a combination of early onset arthritis and lupus.

It took my health providers years to finally unpick my particular selection box of goodies, and along the way, I missed school exams, college terms, weeks of work, almost a lifetime of fatigue, joint problems and pain and digestive problems. I have had 18 operations and endured a ten year fertility battle with multiple losses. It took the longest time, but I refused to give up. It was simply because I wasn’t the norm, an easy fix, and I didn’t always look ill. When it was suggested I take early retirement because I was on crutches, when I wondered if this body would stop me moving forward, I let momentum and trust take me to the next destination. It has taken me far longer than I imagined it would, as a healthy twenty something leaving Edinburgh Art College. But I now know, that my journey to get here has been rich and rewarding, a parent, a teacher, artist, writer, and a person who exists.

Every obstacle an opportunity.

And always with my trusted companion !

You can do anything.

Just do it your way

xxxxx

All our love, Liz at the beach Hut x

Limbo

There’s a place called land of Limbo
On the outskirts of the town,
A place where friends are seldom made,
In case you let them down.

In case the big black dog returns
Claws sharpened on your door.
And all the bags stored under beds
Are hurled in cars once more.

In case the roots you want to grow
Entangle up your heart;
And all the dreams they cut from you,
Will never get to start.

In Limbo, safely nurturing,
Your life behind the hedge
A world away from breathing deep,
And stepping from the edge.

A world away from what you were,
The girl whose almost gone.
Before the tiniest of smiles,
Was painted daily on.

Cross the tracks to Limbo land
The hardest place to find
Routes are snared and treacherous,
Especially in the mind.

Limbo isn’t on the map,
Or on the subway line
Destination, final stop; keeps
Changing all the time.

In real world , time is still sometimes;
A breath deep, drawing, peace.
Surrounded by the simple pleasures,
Books and flower and leaf.

.

Feet are anchored, roots are long;
Earth’s rich, musty loam,
Precious heady, springtime mornings
Finding our way home.

There comes a moment when we turn

to see our shadow roam,

when all the holding fast is done,

and we can feel we’re home.

One day the door of limbo land
Is left wedged open wide,
And finally the everywhere
Comes tumbling in outside.

In Seeking , travel is a choice;
To step along each track.
And find exciting different routes,
When its time to go back.

No need to drag out dusty cases
Hidden under beds.
You’re here already,  listen , hear
What all your friends have said.

A spell in Limbo is essential
Patch up broken wings,
But wings and meant for flying
And your soul now needs to sing.

And if we see as wise ones do,
Life not in black and white.
The jewel colours swirl freely,

On the silky tails of kites

For all the beasts who gave you strength

showed what was never you,

And made a life outside of Limbo

feel so fresh and new.

Take respite under limbo ‘s spell
A warm , soft, heavy blanket
Then, Hear your instincts loud and clear
Trust what you love and thank it.

And where you land, the route you take,

hold onto all you’ve learned.

Your self respect and courage now,

is well and truly earned.

LW

Patience


When I was little sweets were banned,

and only for rare treats.
There’s plenty fruit and bread for toast,
You don’t need these to eat!


But shops had jars all glistening,

and sparkling sugar beckoned.
And being young,  the thought of waiting: even for a second,
Was torture for my little head,
And I became adept,

At savouring each morsel as the pleasure long, I kept.


When others scoffed their chocolate bars,

in one enormous bite,
I’d wrap each piece and have a store,

for secret stash at night.


It’s true to say if you can handle, 

hurdles from above
Boom ! down they come, like rain from Heaven ,
wrapped in bows with’ love.’


‘Cause ; you can wait a little more,

for life to be complete,
You proved that , when you nibbled chocolate
underneath the sheet!


But now I’m 50, It is time,
to raid the corner shop.
To stock up on Lindt chocolate
until my Jeans go pop.


If sugar is a metaphor
for all good life can bring,
Then now I want to paint and love
and laugh and eat and sing.

And never wait a moment,
for a sugar laden pleasure,
I’ll be a mad old blue haired woman,
taking things at leisure.


Patience is a lesson,
which has kept life at the door.
So now I’m off for doughnuts
and a travellers explore.


To places dreamed, while under covers
on those torchlight nights.
Patience has paid off,
and the vista is in sight.


The dream is always there,

waiting for your chance to take it.
And nobody can make your Patience
worth it ’til you make it .


I’ve been like marmite to the ones
who couldn’t work out why,
That one so cheery was not simply.

watching time go by.


You must have faith that there are flavours,

morsels still to find,
For time and days are side-lines

if you sweeten hands and mind.

The rainbow jars of favourites,

will be waiting on the shelf.
All their colours shiny, urging
Us to treat ourselves.

And when the day will come at last
The first foot out the door.
That first breath, first step,
A new world we’ll explore.

Like popping candy covering
an ice cream rich and sweet.
New flavours will explode and burst
And joy will be complete.

Never underestimate
how lovely it can be,
To savour favourite dishes
when the fridge has been empty.

Or feel the breeze in windswept hair
Too long indoors and dry.
And gazing at the lucky Robin
Wishing you could fly.

Look at the woman standing there,

with wisdom pure as taste.

Who cares what others think of her

There’s no more time to waste.

Time will Swerve back round again
Just like she never left,
A few more wrinkles , wisdom deeper,

Our souls endure no theft.

If you are waiting for a taste
Of something you remember,
As time speeds up, and tries to win
Don’t let yourself surrender.

For at that point,  the pinnacle
Is nearly in your sight,
The hilltop peak, the ocean floor,
The will to win the fight.

And that’s the sweetest taste of all.
When patience can be savoured.
When all your courage, strength and love
Comes back in rainbow flavours.

LW

❤🧡💚💚💙💜

Little lies

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There was a little fib,
Which turned into a lie.
As time drew on, its vastness grew,
Beneath the cloudless sky.

The gossip started as a way
To feel a little tough,
To have a little power when
Inside was not enough.

The lie grew legs and turned into,
A Chinese whisper sort,
Who cares they thought, whose going to know ?
I’ll never should be caught.

When drinks were had, or over tea
The guesswork now was fact.
The lie forgotten, judgement done,
The victims life was hacked.

In fallout from a small untruth,
More stories bred like rats,
Behind the backs of those who
Trust,
AND THAT they said was that !

Why someone feels they know you more
Than you can know yourself,
Its strange and sad and curious
And impacts on your health.

The perpetrator carries on
with blithely scattered words,
Forgetting that the wind is strong
She carries what is heard.

Like viruses the inky stain
Of wronged and dirty black,
Has seeped into the crevices
There is no going back.

The lie has spread like seed or mould
Grown spores and legs and arms ,
Despite the surface scrubbed and bleached
Despite the bullies charms.

A victim hides their light away
For fear of being seen,
For fear of reasons to be harmed,
By sharpened sticks so mean .

For words they do as much to harm
As stones thrown by a hand.
A stone flies once and you can see,
The place where it will land

A lie will tangle others in,
Like fish caught in a net.
With so much darkness, thrashing blind,
The way clear we forget.

Best swim alone against the tide,
If that’s the safest way.
Feel kinder waters buffer you
To help you on your way.

For truth is vast, an ocean deep,
New treasures float in view;
A million rainbow fish swim past
In line with perfect you.

Hurt people do hurt people.
Let their words grow wings and fly.
Keep strong in gusts of icy words
And never speak a lie.

LW

  ,

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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Thankyou

As we look past the storm damage and the winter garden, bereft of it’s colours and usually dug up by four giant paws …

We could be sad and ponder all that was lost, and is gone: lament the landscape of change.

Or we could take a moment to celebrate all that has been and the journey through this last year, the people we met on the way, the new friends, the furry feet, the help we prayed for and received miraculously.

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The beach hut is a movable feast. It goes where we go, for as long as it needs to be there. We all have a beach hut spot in our hearts. Who knows where ours will go next.

Skye Blue house was named after our beautiful Skye and the Blue of the sea and my daughter’s eyes, of all things sacred and beautiful in nature and in art.

Latterly life might have thrown a few curve balls, with health and weather, goblins and ghouls; but in our time here; we made fairy gardens, and a pond, had chickens that laid blue eggs, had garden parties, grew lettuces and fruit, painted a lot of furniture and made a lot of art.

Life is a series of moments strung together with spiderwebs of time. Every day adding brushstrokes to the painting of our life. The point isn’t to finish the picture, but to keep painting.

Take a moment to guinea Hygge from time to time
Notice wonderful things
Celebrate and dance whenever possible
And keep a chair ready and the kettle on for your next best friend to appear.

Happy New Year wherever you are, and love and blessings from all of us here ❤

Love, liz at the beach hut 🧚‍♂️🎄xx

Storm

This is bonnie. When something isn’t right she stands very still and shuts her eyes . When she is scared she freezes.

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Until the storm passes.

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Often this becomes our default. Things get pushed aside to deal with later, lists are made and lost, promises made and broken. Mañana Mañana..

A happy medium between awareness and being able to just be in the moment. A recipe this lot have nailed.

There are jobs that simply have to be done like tiny claws that need clipping.

And preparations for events which will not be repeated, no matter the weather or budget

Just when, the Christmas food was safely stored in the bulging freezer, the presents wrapped and stored in the vintage caravan, which doubles as a place to stay in Summer. Just when the the Art studio was packed away for winter and paintings stored in Leah’s old Summerhouse. A storm blew in. Storm Arwen

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⁹Thinking we were being burgled I headed out at two in the morning to find the contents of St Abbs and our garden flying mid air. Roof tiles, chairs, guttering, bins, pots and trees, whipping the walls and smashing everywhere. I frantically looked for something to wedge the windows shut and stop any more breaking glass. There wasn’t time to be scared though, it all happened too quickly !

We had already had the beginnings of a blackout, the night before so there was no hot water or electricity, and the storm raged on. The next day and the coming days, what happened was a kind of auto pilot for most. You Just got on with the immediacy of rescue, saving what could be saved and surveying the damage. When you have no choice but to boil water for a wash or lukewarm tea in a pot on the coal fire, there is nothing to butt against. Nobody to waste time arguing the pros and cons with in your head. Nothing to bury your head for. Real life decrees action.


The storm blew half of what we had away. It was the same and worse everywhere here, and I know that insurance companies are not picking up their phones still so the task continues . The caravan was hit hard with windows smashed and contents broken,  including many Christmas presents which got wet in the rain or sucked out and broken on the ground. My Art studio roof tarp came off and water damaged the mattress, bedding, floor, artwork and sketchbooks, fabrics, and materials. Fences came down, were wrenched up by rope and wishful thinking; and then; went down again, the fridge and freezer contents were lost including seasonal food ; and any garden furniture and contents are now broken. 

Pre storm….
After…


But thankfully, nobody was hurt. The damage to Skye blue house was minimal. A drastic cull of possessions wasn’t in the plan, but with little to be done, it was a done deal. The blackout lasted last for next 5 days.

Thankfully, we have a coal fire. A very precious commodity that week! So much so that half a pile of our logs were pinched ! And they just had to ask ! We were so grateful for the ability to boil the water, and cook french toast, to take flasks round to our neighbours, and for it to heat us ( at least in one room). We all stayed in there, guinea pigs, cats and all, and by candle light played cards and monopoly. It was a weirdly calm time, wearing all our clothes in bed, the smell of hot water bottle childhoods and the weight of twenty eiderdowns. My daughter was hilariously entertaining with her stand up comedy routine. I had no idea how funny she was, away from her phone! .


When we dared to look again, when the lights came on, it showed how much had to be done and what would have to be thrown away  .
Shed by shed the realization was clear. The storm was a gift that kept on giving as more soggy or smashed things were found.  The full Christmas food stuffed freezer, the fridge just having been filled, Christmas presents soggy from storage in the caravan. Vintage China and bedding smashed, ripped, and mouldy. Pools of water on paintings.

All the artwork had to be rewrapped and dried off, brought inside and re-catalogued, the emergency boxing up of possessions will need to be redone but, as all the fabric casualties have been rescued and washed, paper and card objects fanned on radiators for weeks and bubble wrap is Bear’s new favourite thing; I think we might get through Christmas before tackling anything else.
In an emergency you rescue what you can, without thinking. Grabbing the most vital, the irreplaceable,  in a supermarket sweep of mad energy . The first morning post storm, the wind was still howling, and there was no choice but to keep going . Some kind of otherness forced me on. Grabbing armfuls, boxfuls, and  bag fulls and piling them into the biggest hut, my studio. Two days later the rain went through the roof in there too. So, they got moved again.
There was no choice but to make some serious snap decisions about what to keep. I found I didn’t mind. Our perspectives change in stormy weather.

In the worst of times a quiet knowing un-freezes you and gives you fight or flight to cope. The last few years have not been easy, but knowing how futile worry is, gives us power over the immediacy of today.
Life can challenge us with hurdles, biblical in their trails.  One by one testing areas of faith and resilience, emotionally, financially, with relationships, health conditions and work and lifestyle choices. To tell you not to worry isn’t dismissing your anxieties, but perspective can become clearer when things get shaken up.

Smiling is still thankfully free

A massive amount of support and help has come from outside of the village. We have been so lucky to have friends in our Art group, and a resilience team who have gone above and beyond to help patch us back together. Below are a few of the drawings by my group . Head to seasparkle.org for weekly gallery updates 💙🧚‍♂️

This is an ode to my Star helper. You Know who you are K.P.

Knowing that while things may come and go, and others might challenge our perceptions, beliefs, things; we can weather the storm, however, whatever and whoever we chose to live as or with.

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As I unearthed the boxes of paintings in the shed, hardly daring to see the storm damage, Artwork hastily packed in during lockdown, I realised how much has been created here. How the insular life through circumstances out of our control, has fuelled a chunk of creativity I had never been able to access before. When neighbours were cruel, I worked on art, and wrote blogs in the bath, when pandemics were rife, we made bags and jewellery and Art every day with other people, and turned it into prints and cards, and did Zooms to keep spirits up and WhatsApp classes to connect with friends. When pain was at its height I drew in bed, or in hospital. My daughter said that the pandemic was one of her happiest times, with a bubble of positivity and making, and everyone else staying home like we often do.

Sometimes in life all that we show to the world is our bottom sticking out of our hutch.

When actually the solitude is the space we’ve needed to heal

And get back out again with a whole new set of super powers we never knew we had.

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When the Gods force a storm upon us, we have less time to overthink what is collateral damage and just resign stuff to the box marked ‘chuck’. We can also see clearly who and how to treasure. To appreciate who we have and to stand in the now with them, in an authentic life we choose.

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Tomorrow’s tide will change again

The zoo will get fed

This world is changing and will continue to do so. Changing weather patterns show us just how adaptable we still need to be. Despite technology trying to disconnect us with virtual communication and cyber shopping, we still need to know how to cope using core skills, to be part of a community. Adapting and honouring your personal skillset, and knowing how unique you are, no matter your age and mobility, gives you purpose and belonging.

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There is always a friend at the beach hut. You can come out now!

See you soon

Love Liz at the Beach Hut xx

Soup

As the temperature changes and jumpers are sought

We get to discover the sale stuff we bought

 Last winter from Next where we queued like grey dominoes

To purchase more clothes, where straight under the bed they go.

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And finding soft clothes fitting dark cooler days ,

Is akin to the lure of the slow cooker haze.

 And the scent of the fireplace of wood burning smoke ,

Follows fresh pairs of socks when your feet have got soaked

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In Autumn the promise of capturing friends,

 To nurture hot drinks and then start one again .

  Some bodies do well in the rain and the cold,

 Preferring to ski and go swimming -so bold

,

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On the beach, are the wild ones, I watch and admire

Whilst swathed in a blanket inside my armchair

For some, it’s a seasonal obstacle course to get through

When everyday life leaves your hands white and blue .

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Because your immunity loses all reason

And messes your energy most of the season.

This isn’t a tale about how to get fixed

 If this is reality, you’re expert in this .

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This is a hug for all those who dream

And whilst loving Autumn; still silently scream

 A hug for the days where the damp makes you weep

From moving the route you could do in your sleep.

May be an image of nature

In Summer your joints hurt but pain you just bear

When sun on the skin in the flip-flops you wear

And breezes that brush you like kisses from fairies

Don’t punch like six boxers in pub crawls gone lary.

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On wet days as two eyes gaze at leads by the door

And despite doggie patience, can’t cross one more paw

You battle the elements for today’s mini drama

Ignoring the pain in invisible armour.

Attempting the route which is suddenly hard

And crying a little while hips feel like shards

Of glass and things spiky : and push their  way in

And you must just make it to put out the bin.

And friends say how are you? And what do you say?

You’re fine on the outside, you say I’m ok

But all that has happened with wind, chill or rain

Has stolen your energy ,swapped it for pain.

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Immunity plummeting, temperature cool,

You’re a blood boiling, bone aching ,gland swelling fool

 Fit for your duvet and slippers and tea

Not out in the world where the others can see.

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 Except life can’t give us a six month reprieve

 From autumn and winter and all that she breathes

We battle on each of us: through knowing eyes

 Determined to catch at least one bright sunrise .

May be an image of twilight, sky and nature

We all know someone who can relate

To managing what life has plopped on their plate

But sometimes a gentle reminder or two

Shows us just how to walk in their old winter shoes.

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Is not such a bad thing For those you hold dear

Who bounce round in summer, but have now disappeared

 Know that seasonal changes, the glory of Fall

Can come with a minefield, not welcomed  by all .

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Like dormice, exhausted, curled in Autumn dens

 sometimes we exist to let friends down again

There’s is no timetable, days plunge into gloom

 And Covid was quite normal, spending months in your room.

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 If you know someone precious, and you care they stay yours

Their needs will be be different behind their front door

They might need more sleep at wierd times of the day

Or struggle to move in their usual way.

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Or feel guilty because they can’t be that friend yesterday

Who left you with this face, gone lifeless and grey

Social media will not show the fog Winter brings

The lonely months of time, before warmth of Spring.

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 Be kind, patient, knowing, we aren’t all made the same

For we all wish we could leap puddles in the same rain

Tomorrow will be better after rest, Netflix and soup

And soon we will feel human and be back in the loop.

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A thousand thanks for all the eyes that make my path more clear

 For dancing leaves and Autumn light which decorates my year

Our bodies aren’t so easy to decipher from outside

They don’t have labels telling us the things we often hide.

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 This season as the lights go down and you chop up for soup

 Extend a hand for quiet ones and keep them in the loop

 For as you’ll know they may not ask for extra love they need

So lay a spoon , a bowl and crust and give their soul a feed.

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From our hearth to yours, Liz at the Beach Hut xxxxxxx

Baby bird

How old were you when you found your wings ? When did you first feel in control of your choices? Or grounded enough to let go of your fear? Whose fear was it anyway ?

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Did you climb a mountain in a sweltering landscape and peek at your new perspective through the gap in the clouds?

Did you find God one day while eating your toast?

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 Did you reach Nirvana whilst touching the high notes with your choir or dancing with your tribe around a flaming bonfire?

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Or understand fully one sunrise your need for grounding in earth, as you smelled the air and witnessed your hard labour flourish?

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Or maybe a little of all of these?

Did you then forget your epiphany as soon as you landed back on planet earth with a plop when someone needed you or worse, wiped your seed of new hope away ? Did the technicolour get switched back off ?

Did a voice in your head tell you how unrealistic your positivity was?

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When the clear glistening ideas in your mind unfurl, new and shiny and exciting, like a glossy tropical flower You just know that someone will come and cut your petals off. Often someone who in theory should have your back.

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This is the vulnerable point where many fledgling dreams die. Trying to push against the system which surrounds anything different, whether at home or work is often too difficult. It is easier to drift back and become engulfed in the ‘way it has always been’

Most people know who they are. What brings them joy and a sense of pure satisfaction. But we are fed so many alternatives to this core knowledge, and are often hungry for a little more validation. Sometimes these vital gaps in our unconscious self worth came from feelings we have when we are little and can’t yet fly.

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A Baby seagull made its home on top of our caravan this Summer. Nesting in our rooftop chimney, a fluffy little chick was waited on by a village of seagull parents; decorating its roof with hard to clean graffiti. Baby seagulls are very demanding. Screeching their needs very vocally for not only their parents but all adult birds within a two mile radius. Relentlessly they deliver takeaway delights to their offspring with their gruesome picnics, and swoop low and hard on any unexpecting human passers by.

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While we travelled this Summer, she stayed still and grew fat, filling out her fluffy edges with spotty brown feathers. And on our return, she was almost as big as her mum, and still, she cried and cried for food. Once fed, the crying started again with the rapidly less patient mum nudging her baby to move .

These seagull parents were getting fed up now.

Over the next few days, the crying continued. But nobody came. She knew she could fly. They knew she could fly. She realised food was going to be slightly harder to come by. So she cried harder. Her feathers were turning a lighter shade of grey. She walked to the edge and back again, and sat down. Her cries became more plaintive and although beady eyes watched from nearby rooftops, nobody came to deliver dinner. Until. there was nothing more for it. It was time….

After several short trips to nearby treetops and a couple of shed roofs soon all that remained on the caravan roof was the Jackson Pollock masterpiece.

There is a time, when nobody comes. Sometimes we wait a lifetime for that reassurance and feed, and believe we cannot function without it. We have a core belief that we can’t. … (fill in the blank) That a teacher, a parent, a partner, or any person we give permission to have (or had ) power over us, and once that is delivered ; we will then be whole.

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All living creatures have a right to love and nourishment but we know this is seldom true for everyone.

If we are fortunate, we are fed the morsels we need to build our strength, courage and resistance, to build healthy bones, lives, relationships and feel loved.

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It takes courage to say, thank you for feeding me, but I can take it from here. That I have enough belief in my self to choose whom to take advice from . It takes courage from those who love you to also let you go, make mistakes and come back, bruised but more wise. And when there is no Big seagull watching you must hear your own voice.

You’ll hear other squawks and caws, creating more choices, more distractions.  Jostling for attention and swaying your resolutions and ideas with promises. A person who fears change will fear yours. “Stay safely in your comfort zone that matches ours, think these thought because they match the system we created.”

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And on a superficial level we get thrown life changing ‘temptations’ “Be the best version of yourself with our new products. Buy a whole new set of clothes, get a better job, a shiny new car, and always a new sofa… THEN you will be the perfect person you always knew you could be! Hurry while stocks last. On sale now. a new improved you. No mess, no clutter, just competition ready human.”

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When it still doesn’t feel better, when we are still hungry for something else; that’s the gift of looking deeper into our own needs.

This Summer has given us a new perspective. One which we hadn’t planned, but clearly it was in the plan all along.

As an art teacher I have spent my life collecting resources for others to use, from shells to old objects, books, materials, plants, metal things, glass things, fabric things, beautiful shiny objects and tiny things that fit into the palm of your hand. A classroom was packed with labelled boxes and lovely stuff to draw from.

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When I left my teaching post through ill health, my huge supply of resources was lugged from house to house, into storage facilities and a basement, back to the shed and back to another art room. It was whittled down and down but at each stage of the life of the stuff, people were using it and creating beautiful artwork. It has been my nemesis for as long as I can remember. Collecting things for people to use makes so many people happy; it was never a question of not keeping things

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People donate art materials to you which is amazing and for classes an Aladin’s cave of colourful ephemera grows. Easily the bags and boxes also grow in quantity, and without adequate permanent storage- one becomes a permanent bag lady. This state relies on meticulous organisation, warm weather for easier mobility, an army of volunteers to help lift from the car and bend to the floor for any stray tissue paper and stray clutter, not to mention the energy needed to create in the first place.  The reality of wheeling bags of art materials in a force ten gale while a rainbow of pens skittles off down the road is highly likely.

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There is a time for everything

And a place too.

Yesterday, after making a decision to start focusing on a bigger project of my own, my remaining boxes were returned from the community centre where I was teaching . Oh no, boxes of stuff again.!

After spending a Summer literally throwing out everything I own and starting a home renovation now we are remaking our own home with less clutter, I could have wept! But I asked for these things back. Why on earth did I do that? Things just keep coming back, growing in volume.. again! .

In amongst the detritus of making equipment, there were sketchbooks and memories, boxes of collected resources, things donated and found. Things which will give pleasure again. Working in the art field always comes with a running commentary of ‘funny’ labels. Junk, clutter, crap, stuff or worse. But look back. Look at how that plastic became a dragon sculpture. Look at how that ink was layered in rich textures over all that scrap and made this fantastic collage.  

Our things, the ‘stuff’ we collate and have an affinity with, create a thread with others. When someone else decides to throw away, comment about, or sabotage our things without our permission, it makes decisions about what we need, and for some precious objects leaves a physical loss. In all of the Art spaces I have run, we have kept a wide and varied selection of materials for every project one could think of. Even though the hoard was very organised, being forced to cull occasionally is healthy! The eye of a non interested observer however will only ever see this, (below) and make that the excuse for treating stuff-which-doesn’t-slot-into-a-neat-category badly.

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Until someone tells them its ART , and then they pay ££££££££

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Indestructible Object Man Ray

Then, a week later, it happened again. More things were going to be travelling to us. Do you think the universe was trying to tell us something? This was the first time ever that everything I owned would be in one place. After my first reaction of horror, dread and wondering if I could crawl under the covers with a sketchbook and Netflix, this stuff was being given its own second chance, to fit, or not fit, for where we are now. Just like we decided to give this home a chance, despite a few crows pecking at our corn. For the first time, there was nobody telling us it had to go somewhere else.

The value we place on objects is so unique to us, an extension of our selves through our space and our clothes, our belongings and our creativity. If we don’t care about these things, or let others mock, its personal . Allow a child to love a rock collection and a row of conkers. There will be a time when we are gone and none of these things we own matter. But we do, and we live on in the worth we allow others to enjoy in us.

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I had been buying things for years and giving them away. Then, weirdly, a delivery of almost the same thing would come from somewhere else, it would come back to me in a different way, for example as a gift or a donation. Without realising it, I had been viewing my things through the eyes of my critics, slightly judgingly and disposing of them often because I could hear the voice..

There were sketchbooks or materials we could use with other classes. And although most of it went into the recycling. I enjoyed the little pocket of time carved out to really appreciate and look at how it got here. And what we need now. And what we don’t. Placing value on each item , purely based on my own voice, I have to admit was a lovely feeling. When we realise why we carry a weight of doubt, and for how long, it is a profound gift to let it go.

Looking through boxes of old teaching resources I was blasted back to that time, those energies and passions. Not just the resources used to teach Art lessons and critical work, but the drive to focus on particular artists, Frida Kahlo, Pierre Bonnard, John Piper, The Pre Raphaelites. The design lessons of masks for a Midsummer Night’s Dream, of world festivals, of Alice in Wonderland and natural form. A whole bank of ideas, images, interests and inspirations.  I still love all those artists. Drawn to since childhood, many Artists still resonate, and I find synchronicities and parallels with how I like to work.

Pierre Bonnard: At home with Marthe, 1937-1943


 In gaining the ability to throw away , we must trust the ability to keep. This pertains to any area of our lives- clothing, activities, foods that make us unwell. Whatever pops into your mind as you read this. What will come again easily is what you need and what is precious.  I should have asked myself at five or ten to tell myself now what I would like. Most of it would still be true.

Sometimes a journey can be much more than you imagine. The 3000 miles we drove to find a potential new home ended up with an appreciation of where we are now. Waiting for my seagull family to land with dinner was a red herring.

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There was however, a whole aviary of supporters in the nest

Whatever you might be not doing because you are waiting for permission; just do it. People can and do wait a lifetime for a morsel that never comes, a crumb for their inner baby bird. Approval is overrated. Do no harm to others and strive to enlighten your self.

Trying to apply your hearts desire against a soundtrack of criticism, whether ‘kindly’ unprompted advice or hostile, fear addled barbs; is like flying in a tornado.

We gave away all our food, drove 3000 miles, took five animals around the country, packed up our house and unpacked it again, closed off every avenue, and in coming home; found that all the people and paths that were meant to be for us, were still here, quietly giving us the thumbs up. Those who believe in you will do so no matter how you take flight.

Our Summer wasn’t what we expected but it truly was what we needed. We found strength and courage, and a bigger picture. . Despite the madness, I would do ( most of it ) over again. We could have chosen a whole new place but got to unwrap the gift of life here again. Much has been happening at Skye Blue house since we returned, with an almost constant paintbrush in hand. The next post will unveil all the hard work!

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Travelling helps root us back home and get perspective on the life and accomplishments we have achieved so far , with or without a team in the pits

So, replace that fear in your chest with a few helpful butterflies…Then Spread your wings and leap off the caravan roof.. You might not get where you thought you were going. … .but there is a big horizon waiting.

Tell your seagull self;

To live a life you’ve never lived; you must do what you’ve never done

Take one step towards the edge and the rest will follow

Tune in and keep your frequency high

Feel the breeze and soar

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See you soon, Love, Liz at the Beach Hut xx

Road trip

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Oh what we wouldn’t give

To have another life

One which has more sunshine

Where no neighbours give us strife.

Well here’s a little story

Given with a pinch of pride,

To tell you that you can indeed;

And land the other side.

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Not only as the self you were:

Bit all the missing parts,

The scattered bits you thought were left,

Like plasters on your heart.

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It started during Covid, when our patience , trust was tested

The art was made for future times, and painful bones were rested

Contact with the outside world was mostly done on zoom

While unkind eyes peered in through the curtains in the living room

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A goldfish bowl is what it felt, a sport for bored old men

While real life captured daily in the dreams of ink and pen

But sadness takes its toll you know,

Despite how brave you feel

Despite distractions, kindly words and never ending zeal

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All a human wants to do

is open their back door

To feel the sun on their bare feet

And let their spirit soar.

Pain is eased by warmer climes.

Where damp bones are less sore.

Where just for once a dress is aired

To float in at the shore.

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We packed the house with boxes

Planned a road trip for so long

Both of us excited, planning

Nothing could go wrong

We headed off to Dorset in a car packed to the top

And listened long to Audible and old c.d.s non stop

The B and B though lovely , was run strictly, and like school

Bear, in car at Breakfast , trying bravely to stay cool

Beaches were so pretty but a long way from the car

And a wander down to Lulworth Cove felt a step just too far

A hot and fluffy Scottish dog and 12 year old, to entertain each day

These trips should come with medals or a free spa by the way!

Next was a small chalet in a little place called Eype

Right next to lovely Bridport which was where we really liked.

We looked at lots of houses, thinking renting would be right

To see how life would unfurl and if this was where we liked.

We needed to be careful.

And that’s why we were quiet

The more they knew, the chance for damage

grew with every night.

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A plan was hatched to safely try another little boat

A few who knew could see how hard we’d tried to stay afloat.

All we needed was a plan,

of Epic size proportions

But, hey this is real life here, 

with all its mad distortions...

Returning back to where we live, my daughter would not go

Her summer was more summer if she could simply flow

So we returned, the bear and I, had just two weeks left to search

To look online for something new, in shadows of the church.

That time was peaceful, useful, long , she’d never been away .

And we both got to do the missing which we did, I’m glad to say .

Our house was cleared and cleaned and boxed and sorted every day,

But every turn produced a problem tripping up the way.

From nests of wasps which manged to escape their mortal trap

to blown up routers thanks to power cuts, needing several chaps.

Each new thing became a task though simply to sort out,

and spaces came with things that went, the things we dared chuck out.

If you think you are going, you clean out even more

your cupboards don’t have spices dating back to Eighty four.

So emails pinged and forms were filled

for landlords time again

Oh how we forget what its like to go through that in vain

To jump through hoops and hand out cash and prove our worth for lets

‘ No parking, fun, or children, and definitely no pets!’

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In summer too when every shed is sold as summer space

For one months rent , a car you’d buy or ticket up to Space.

The days were ticking past and I had to get my girl ,

my guinea pigs were down there too and this lot are my world.

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Bear and I however had managed something too.

Our goodbye lunches sparkled in the eyes of all the friends we knew.

We felt a tug of love, a lamplight in the gloam

The silent yet warm constant presence making home a Home.

We drove back down to England to continue with the plan.

A room filled floor of boxes to join us in a van

When two hours in a wobble veered us off the A1 road

And holding Bear in one hand, the A.A. man did unload

The boot packed full of random stuff and two cats ,mewling madly

Our tyre was worn but also had a cut which leaked so badly.

We made our way back down at 50 all the way

And 12 hours later we arrived, but no words could we say.

The best parts are the absences in an adventure story

The chance to miss and find again, your own sweet Jackanory

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Sometimes life can play a trick and you must listen hard.

Sometimes you must journey long to stay just as you are.

Sometimes you must see yourself as others see you first.

Sometimes you must love yourself the way you most deserve.

We used our instincts all the way and listened to each time

An obstacle would light each step and that this was a sign.

Not to carry on this path;

But see it as devine.

On getting down to Sussex,

where the gathering troups were held

The planned next manoeuvre

was far from being gelled

In England there was one month left til schoolterm did begin.

But Scottish schools returned in days, and time was running thin.

As things came clear for reasons I shall leave for just today

It came to me that this was time for us to be away

In one day two new tyres, new togs and food was deftly sought,

and all those things that previously for Dorset had been bought,

We’re swiftly and with Kondo grace stuffed back into the car.

Along with several animals and all the Art so far.

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And realising with lightning speed that this had been the reason

That fate had stepped in just before this new emerging season

And travelling back to where we knew were friends with open hearts

Was where we made our home and what inspired the Beach Hut Art.

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We made the journey home which made us feel quite glad

To unpack every box and discover what we had

To know the choices laid out bare and stand still any way

And re affirm what we believe, no matter what they say.

You run, and search for you we think is missing in your lives

When what you have is what you’d pay a leg for in St Ives

Off we drove at 5 am, stuffed up to our cars brim

Excited to be going home at last and not so scared of him

Guineas cage on top of cats and Bear leaning on me

A more comical carload you’re unlikely to see.

The school had left a place for her despite our prior chat

And lovely feels are happening when home feels where its at.

The boxes are now emptied, the feet are on the ground.

The Summer shed off more than rubbish,

Insight has been found

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We can save the rest for other days, as this could take a week

But trust me when I tell you that if Inner calm you seek

Step outside your comfort zone and leap into the unknown

Miss your loved ones Til you both want nothing but your home

Drive away and back again to see where you are now

Scare yourself a little while your body will allow.

Mine’s already creaking with the haar in every joint

The Autumn school term makes adventure hard now, that’s the point

A healthy body to ease pain needs the right amount of heat

And healthy minds need peace to live with earth beneath your feet

So, back to the beginning with a view I’d pay to have

To know the value of your lot and make your head feel glad

The chance to see what you would miss is if you let bullies win

They pop up almost everywhere so turn to them and grin

Your feet are earthing you wherever your two legs can be

And your two legs can carry you from shore to shining sea

And if like me, you struggle with this easy of all things

Three thousand miles proves your car can be your wings

The Gods were working with and for us on this magic quest,

This summer ended not as planned but worked out for the best.

For us, I know the following, and never will forget,

We like our house and won’t be pushed into an airbrushed let

where animals and children aren’t welcome on the floor.

It might be noisy but there’s always welcome here behind our door.

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A little word of thankyou too for meals made on our quest.

And barefoot caravaning tending truly was the best.

My bin man and our lovely gardener we could not compare

And A. A men with pet skills, well you got us everywhere.

We’ll love and richly leave you for a little while this time

But soon be back with drawings, stories, notions love and silly rhymes .

]

Leaving a light on,

All our Liz and the zoo xx