life – Page 4 – lizatthebeachhut.com

Micro

February 2, 2023February 5, 2023 lizatthebeachhut

New Flashing LED Light Glow Stick 7Modes Colorful Concert Dancing Party ...

It’ was Lorraine’s fault There I was, minding my own business and the next thing I know, I am dancing in the dark with glow sticks in each hand.

Now; I’m not good with walking these days, as you know. What was I thinking?

Twenty years ago I was a pretty good dancer) I did acrobatics and theatre performance.

Then a serious knee injury, twenty operations and meningitis catapulted a double whammy of osteo and rheumatoid arthritis.

Those lovely, huge, sweeping body moves, enjoyed in the disco and often madly accomplished in full costume; well they were a thing of the past. Getting to the supermarket from a disabled space on a cold day is exercise for me.

Yet Faith Ruled Out

As my arms found the beat and the core of me danced, a strange and lovely thing happened. Out of nowhere, my cells woke up, they started to remember stuff. Tiny micro moves began to ping in my veins as my body knew this place.

I found my rhythm and my limit with each track, each set of steps and my brain swiftly doctored it to suit. When it hurt I didn’t do it. Mostly it hurt my legs. So my hips moved instead, and my arms took the lead. The shapes; The moves the other girls made large , I made small inside my body. It felt wonderful, and size folks, really didn’t matter. Nobody sees you in a dark room, in an exercise class where various women of various ages were making shapes with glow sticks to happy songs.

This time of year we find ourselves peeping our heads out of our wintering. It is Imbolc. The time where nature trusts in the rhythm of the weather, the call of Spring and the feeding of hungry birds and animals. Seeds planted last year are germinating below ground, safely harnessing their potential until the sun can shine on their faces.

Trusting that our tiny moves are important is very hard in this changing world. A world where big is better, anything but bold is boring and we want results, instant fixes.

I heard myself saying to my daughter that she needs to value her time. Those little pockets of time which get wasted on gaming or tv, or endless scrolling are just as easily used on something which slowly brings the change we seek. Although I did probably sound like my mother! I realised that I had personally learnt to understand how precious time is, and how much we can stretch it if we give it value.

In times of plenty for a young person, whether it be due to financial stability, or having a loving supportive home, it is impossible to imagine a lack of material things. Or to ever feel ill or simply to not have the world exactly as it is right this minute.

The world makes it easy to believe that the healthiest, most beautiful, most organised, fit and creatively smart people will live the best life. Every magazine prompts us to change and tempts us with freebies to help get us there. Get and be better. How exhausting. And how dull.

Do you want to be a rock star? Well, of course many of us would say we would. The lavish lifestyle, the adoration, the living out of your dream. The fans! But all I think of is how, in the interviews, they all seem to say, how despite arriving at destination after destination, country after country, a lot of tours don’t enable their stars to stop, see the view, see the city even. let alone enjoy the ride and take in where they are.

With every destination, there is a chance of a detour, or a cancellation. learning to stop on the journey, admire the sky, absorb the landscape, enabling us to be aware of each moment for it’s own sake. It was the journey that made us the way we are, in all the ways we like and don’t like about ourselves. The onwards journey therefore should be travelled at our pace, in our style and in our vehicle of choice.

Ironically, we must waste what we will in future appreciate. Be it money and time, or health or familial love. What ultimately makes us value their absence is understanding the weight their presence held. Just don’t expect your average 14 year old to understand their fortune yet.

I have conditioned myself to believe over the years, that I have not achieved my aim, or where I want my Art to be. Even after a big success or exhibition. You might tell me how that is all kinds of wrong , or how parents, partners and teachers plant seeds of doubt in your mind, and the sensible brain knows this. But at the end of the day; it is our voice our doubts get translated into. And self doubt is like an irritating little wasp in your ear.

As I wiggled my glow sticks and whipped through my teeny tiny hip movements to a funky track; I was struck with a sudden realisation. In the dark in the hall we were all making our bodies do something new and useful and healthy, something that our bodies weren’t doing yesterday. We were planting seeds.

I think we are all so very clever at growing things if we stop and look. Perhaps we move on to the next goal without turning around and hearing the applause for the one we scored. There is faith, instinct and knowing in every day we nurture others and feed ourselves. I had been making micro movements in my every day life, for as long as I could remember. My process in my work remained vital, and I fed it even for years when nobody saw my work. In a house where it was impossible to work, I drew and wrote on tiny scraps of paper and fed them into the open mouth of an art bag. When we were able to leave, those ideas began to become real on canvas and in the world, without having lost anything by having to be patient. Even in the tough times, even when it felt like they were for nothing. No micro movement is ever wasted .

Regular patterns make beautiful pictures. A habit seed becomes your garden . One or two micro movements become a wave of change.

In the precious hour I carve out in the morning I get up early, because my mind is awake to create and write, and this is my happy time. There is sometimes five minutes in the bath or the car to write poems and ideas on my phone. I gather notes and photographs wherever we go somewhere lovely. All the tabs I keep open could make me crazy. But I now know, my method is juggling several things at once, in increments, like painting several canvases and watching them evolve to fruition.

Until each of your thought babies is born!!

The pleasure of slow and steady making and creating, means the final outcome hasn’t got teeth and a scary face. So often putting us off before we begin.

I got to thinking how quickly habits become our everyday ways, and we all know how reliant we can become on the positive and negative versions of those. How easy it is to prep dinner first thing so that the hard work is done for later and you can enjoy a day in the sun. Or stretching for ten minutes, reading ten pages of books which improve your learning a day, writing one letter a week to friends or eating one more piece of fruit . All positive micro movements which improve an aspect of living.

But the opposite comes when we get used to our unhealthy habits in the same way . Like never trying that creative thing we crave doing or doing too much of the thing that damages us. Which is a different demon for everyone.

As I danced I thought of each movement , the ones I was doing with my arms and light sticks, wilder, freer, and the almost imperceptible tiny ones in my legs and hips, that only I could see. And I thought of each brush stroke, each new piece of drawing paper, each new morning, each new notes app, each new idea for a post and a poem.

I considered the word document with the inventory of new products on , the hours and hours of downloading and tapping towards making a new shop website, every letter to a friend who, in mutual faith keep their valuable long distance support in plentiful supply. Each new dawn and each cosy evening holding the day at each side like loyal kind parents . Every plaster on every wound- animal, teenage or otherwise.

As you inch towards the things that bring you joy, find the way to inch away from those that do you harm. Have patience, and believe your instincts. In our sister site Let loose ladies we have learned that we are not alone in our baby steps to freedom.

Let Loose Ladies

Whatever journey you may be on , emotional or health driven, creative or physical, in a relationship or newly going solo; the important things are the same.

Doing little manageable steps towards accomplishing a goal means;

You don’t get bored

You stay in control

You are more likely to stick to a consistent approach

Small moves can be taken wherever you go

You are less likely to quit

Your achievement will be genuinely your own making

You won’t hurt yourself

If safety ( emotionally, domestically, or in recovery from pain ) are issues, you can move with pace and planning. – rewarding yourself for staying motivated.

You will have space in your day for other things

Ironically we have to learn how to waste time before we can value it.

It’s only when we lose function, we age, we lose a level of mobility, we took for granted, or a familiar support, in our health, the people in our network; that our activity buttons get stuck. The good news is that every day can be a chance to reset them again.

Right now I’m making dinner. Chicken Parmesan. In this tiny chalet kitchen . Writing on my phone and talking to you. It is bliss. Soon my lot will be up and the space and my job sheet will be filled up again, For now, this is a carved out place. This hour steps towards feeding both my family and my passion.

The potatoes are almost done.

The chicken is seasoned

The sun’s light is a little softer, we are heading Springwards.

The dinner is made and the day can begin. It may not be the way of the world , but it is my way of feeling balanced.

Don’t count steps, it’s the direction that counts.

Have a groovy day

Love Liz at the beach but xxxxx

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Paper Cut

January 23, 2023January 23, 2023 lizatthebeachhut

We all need to feel grounded.

Walls and hedges, floors and edges, markers to our world’s defining spaces. Blanket stitching a creative space for everything to come, and everything to reflect upon; a place to heal within, to plan from.. A place to rest and go from next. A place to call home. A hub to conjure up new ideas and have fun in. A place to nurture old friendships in and grow new ones in.

We make temporary spaces naturally at our desks, in our childhood bedrooms, in our holiday hotel rooms, even it seems, ( from recent Netflix binges) in our prison cells. In the last three months of my pregnancy, when I was kept in more than I was allowed home, (due to a complication;) my corner of the ward very soon held an assortment of personal memorabilia. A cushion, paintbrushes, all the quirks and accoutrements I probably don’t know are me– but everyone else does!

As a child I held family open days to show off my new bedroom layout. Creating different versions of normal and making new from old. Hours of pushing the bed from one side of the room to the other with my legs shoving the base inch by inch across the floor and rearranging my Wham posters !(yes, I was that kid) and on holiday it doesn’t feel the same until the suitcase is unpacked, the toiletries are in the bathroom, and we know what time breakfast is. A little bit of home from home.

Every student flat, every house, every holiday campsite, no matter how temporary is a blank canvas for a new beginning.

Every one a new route to friendships and chance.

Occasionally there must be a inevitable spanner.

Paper Cut
The walls are paper thin here,
Each paper rustle heard.
Each line of book surrendered,
T'wards rest like idle birds. 

On wings of paper feathers,
Forgotten, inked at last.
Between the paper walls, 
Burt embers of the past. 

This paper cuts each finger,
A trail of pink and read. 
We stitch each words so carefully, 
Each hope with paper thread.

A paper trail of bows left,
Tied on the seat of kites. 
They dive through days and shady lanes,
And feed on terabytes. 

We're papering the cracks now,
To show we're almost real.
A chain of paper dolls stuck fast,
were lined up, toe to heal. 

Our supper on our paper plates,
This picnic tastes the same.
And though the walls are made of card,
We're sheltered from this rain. 

And while the paper calendar, 
Knows not where life will take her,
We stumble through this paper maze, 
and sleep on formal papers. 

In time we'll empty boxes,
A cardboard overwhelm. 
We'll sail on paper aeroplanes, 
Exploring new, old realms.

We'll find our lost belongings,
In tissue, and newsprint.
And mark our new tomorrows,
With smudgy fingerprints.

This poem was inspired by life over recent months . A period of beautiful, but, at times; almost unbearable stillness.

Where once was busy routine, noise, people, structure and and planning of things to get through the seasons of the year; the details, the full stops and punctuation, the life chapters, those that will become embarrassing Facebook reminders in a year or two for groaning offspring; days going by in snapshots of celebration and those yet to be experienced.

What was to be a few months of waiting for a house move has stretched to over half a year.
Not knowing an outcome for a move or a big life change is a hard thing to cope with, no matter whether you are a small or a bigger, experienced human.

When we make a home, it is the centre of our web. From there we can go places and do things and join things, make things happen. Grow roots.

For various reasons this year, this has been on hold a little while.

It isn’t always easy to stay positive without our p.j.c (personal joy collection. ) How easily our solid house of cards can become paper thin. A home is so vital but even more so, are the friendships we nurture within it. To say I crave the smell of chalk paint and new carpets, even a trip to b and q, would be an understatement.

But, when life gives us lemons..

If you had told me we would be packing for this many months, it would have been impossible to imagine what we needed. We could only take so much with us, most of that was for animals. Some clothes for each season and the basics. Which have been added to, seasonally including a birthday each and Christmas. It feels a little now that what we have here now, in our temporary home, is the sum of our belongings. When someone has a bad day, it is so easy to forget that this isn’t our life now. Or who we will be forever more. That this is who we all are now. And at times when it is hard, that this is the whole picture.

But every day is a new beginning. ( I love mornings) And in between the slow ticking of the clock are revitalising rushes of appreciation for what still is . And what will be.

There are still bookshops and mornings, hugs and sprinkles on your coffee, ideas and paws,

Sunrises, amazing architecture, hugs, tiny cinemas and beautiful views.

Happy memories from Skye Blue House inspiring New ideas for the next Home

In these twixt days and months, in the early hours, these precious daylight hours, when school keeps her busy, or cold winter evenings waiting for news of housey things; much is being created and made.

Soon we will grow flowers. Until then we will just grow more (im)patient and bigger piles of paper…

Sometimes the big picture takes a little longer to materialise !

And we must make and be ..

With love and gratitude

Liz at the Beach Hut x

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Her

January 22, 2023January 24, 2023 lizatthebeachhut

A post for a few who need it.

Her

There was a girl who looked like me
She followed me close by.
If someone hurt or saddened us
She hid away to cry.

She weighed as heavy as a rock
But couldn’t quite be seen,
She sometimes almost went away
But re-appeared in dreams.

She often spoke in voices
Quite like those I knew so well,
The tag team of complicit pain
Who cast their icy spell.

We look inside the mirror
Thinking, I know who is me
But you know you are deeper still,
Than anyone can see.

We see the version of ourselves
That we accept as truth.
Honed out of mixed perspectives,
Thrust on us since our youth.

The saddest waste of life is what
we all can sometimes do.
To trust the doppelganger,
Who pretends that they are you.

Go back and hold your own hand
In the places, times and hours
When your wondrous thoughts and feelings
Were swamped by other’s powers.

Refocus where you stand today
Right now, and ever more,
The person who can walk alone,
A giant through the door.

Without the weight of what was then,
And who you never were.
For all that is ahead of you
For you, but best for HER.

LW

Please click on our website

Let loose ladies

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And Breathe

December 18, 2022December 18, 2022 lizatthebeachhut

I have spent quite a lot of time looking at clouds recently.

Either through a doorway at dawn or at dusk when the spectacular paint box of colours and shapes sploshes across our patch of sky. Or sometimes from the inside of a wheelchair as I get trundled on a too- far- to-walk-path or as passenger in the car, I have been awestruck by the never ending capacity for the fabulousness of clouds.

Fluffy snowy cloud mountains hovering on the rooftops of the town, volcanic explosions backlighting the gloom of greys creating clouds of such density you surely must be able to ride on one. Dramatic inky washes, Turneresque pastel streaks of wonder, explosive fiery bursts splitting their intense vibrant blue canvas. We paint the skies with our eyes.

I’ve always loved skies, like gazing at the sea, their vastness make us feel tiny, our thoughts less important. Ironically being mindfull makes our minds less crammed full of clutter.

Watching the clouds pass through the sky I focused on my breath. It hurt to breathe. The week before quite suddenly I hadn’t been able to. After a week of feeling quite strange, a day in A and E, and an extra unexpected ambulance call out, it turned out there was a problem with my lungs. It looks like it was a blood clot. It was extremely painful and frightening.

Quite literally all there was to do was put one moment in front of the next, trust and focus on my breath. It hurt to laugh, to bend down and especially to breathe in cold air. Several times I almost blacked out going outside. In these moments we cling to those we love and the skills we’ve gathered . And trust that we know it is temporary.

I have been reminded.

As someone who is limited by mobility, I use my time and energy differently to a lot of other people. Rising early, using that burst of energy, keeping extra warm, scouting for disabled parking spaces close to the shops or the beach. But it is the world we are used to. Accepting new levels of limitations is another layer of challenge. Accepting even more help is even harder.

But like the skies that change, so too do our needs and our strengths. When there is no choice but to come fully home to ourselves we find we had been patiently there all along. And no amount of illness changes who we are.

These last few months have been ( again) fairly isolating. In a time where nothing is permanent, it can be tricky to hold onto the walls. Your feet need to be firmly on the ground at least somewhere, even if it is just a springboard to travel from and to return to , Staying true to yourself without any of your belongings, with your normal clothes or reference materials with books or tools and equipment; creates an opportunity to pare back to who and what is most important in your life.

After the start of the year, crammed full of community events and time with friends, choirs and art groups in Scotland, these last six months have felt frustrating; of time moving slowly, or time not being filled with our planned version of events. But when time is standing still second by second, we are offered a revitalised appreciation of having achieved in both large and small ways.

Take a breath

It was a summer of getting to know the area, enjoying the warmth and indulging in the odd treat here and there!

Autumn sauntered in with her rich fruity tones.

The zoo continued their daily antics. Bumble and Bonnie the guinea pigs, Max and Molly the cats and Horace the flat-coat retriever. Bear is now living somewhere new with more space and freedom to be his wild self. We will always love you Bear x

A few months shuffling about in one small chalet….

To a larger one …

The girl grew as they are wont to do…

And much Art and Poetry was made

Keeping up with friends by post has been invaluable. Online classes and weekly galleries can be seen on seasparkle.org.

Once a week office space waiting for the laundry!

Remembering every day what makes us happy, even if we have to wait a while…

Sudden illness, a change of direction, a change of pace throws us, We expect it all to be back how it was. But life can’t ever stay the same.

No matter what that looks like for each of us

It can be cathartic to become unwell somehow. I don’t say that flippantly, and I can only speak from my own experience and those who I have spoken with.. But, occasionally we are blessed with an opportunity to gain insight into what is real and what is snake oil.

Unable to catch that last bit of breath, a series of strange little coincidences balanced the universe again. There was a peaceful inevitablity. I just had to not laugh too much. It hurt.

Maybe, the universe took over?

I can breathe a little easier now. Yesterday my daughter made me a delicious dinner, after my first foray out in town walking a few hundred yards. We shared her cheesy chips. We were simply in the day.

It is time to get cosy

Tomorrow will happen regardless

There will always be clouds.

We must just look up.

Have A Fabulous Christmas, stay warm, stay positive and stay in touch

And remember to keep breathing! xx

All our love, Liz and the zoo xx

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Shore

December 14, 2022December 15, 2022 lizatthebeachhut

Love Liz x

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Robin

December 14, 2022December 14, 2022 lizatthebeachhut

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Raven

October 20, 2022October 20, 2022 lizatthebeachhut

Raven

The day we watched the funeral,
when all the nation grieved.
Sat inside with children home,
Choirs on TV.

A raven watched beside us,
Beside the open door.
Catching little snippets,
Coming back for more.

Black were all her feathers
Black were her bright eyes.
But though the day was heavy,
The sun shone in the sky.

Other ravens gathered,
Smart in feathered suits.
Regal, loyal, slick with time
Wearing formal boots.

Lined up at the palace,
Making good the tower.
Celebrating Queen’s long reign,
Warm and strong in power.

Nobody was counting,
Looking at the sky.
Watching for the minute when,
Their Monach passed them by.

So, nobody missed her,
One less precious bird.
Hanging on the commentary,
Huw Edwards every word.

Solemnly she stood there,
Forgetting I was there.
Forgetting all the other birds,
High up in the air.

And as the crowd stood sombre,
Her majesty was led.
A million mourning faces.
A raven bowed her head.

She turned then from the TV,
A tear filled, beady eye.
And left me to my musings,
As she soared into the sky.

Liz Walker

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It’s not easy being green

September 5, 2022September 6, 2022 lizatthebeachhut

Summers end, new school year, pencils in a row.

Children reinvent themselves, some refuse to go.

Autumn hides the cobwebs just as spring brushes them clean;

Subscription to the promise of a new you yet unseen.

Starting fresh sounds simple, leave the ghosts behind.

Clear the debts from credit cards, from lovers, heart and mind.

Open up the blinds again, paint the rolling view,

Truly understanding what it feels to know your you.

Hold your nerve a little longer, time is still at play

You got through the hardest part, first few steps, first day.

All the courage you require is curled up in your heart,

Every move in this game now awaits your hand to start.

Who could squeeze their life inside a tiny little room?
Make their food with dolls house plates, a bucket and a broom?
Trust in friendships lasting from another place inland
Feel that even far away, their hands are in your hands?

Looking past the clutter, seeing what’s beyond.
Pushing through the brambles to the lilies in the pond.
There’s a view beyond the spot we stand on in the rain.
There’s another path beside this bumpy, strange terrain.

Keeping safe your mindset when the noise is getting loud,
Standing still and centered in the roaring gush of crowd.
Slowing down each racing breath, finding space inside,
Moving air to crushing lungs where fear is trying to hide.

Starting life in places new, without an anchor firm,
Centres you from deep directions, ones you’ve yet to learn.

Sometimes taking one more step beyond our comfort zone
Further than we ever dared, far away from home;

Distils every drop of courage, cleaning jewels of fate
Suddenly where once were walls, there’s an open gate.
Suddenly where once was distant; brush it in your hand.
Suddenly no longer dreaming, walk on soft green land.

Take this moment look around, all the steps so far,
Nothing vital left behind, perfect as you are.
Friendships travelled with you, words and thoughts and line,
Breathing slowly when you feel, nowhere close to fine.

Every gloomy hurdle, every battle won,
Finds your light the brighter, closer to the sun.
For every moment conquered, everything you feel

Shapes the life you’re made for, every dream made real.

For my Treasure xxx

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Darting about

August 14, 2022August 14, 2022 lizatthebeachhut

Since I can remember I have had a feeling that the universe can contract and expand on the turn of a card, a moment’s fortune, a wind change.

There are times where everything and anything is possible: the whole whole world is at your fingertips. You can do and be anything . Not simply in this life but beyond in all directions . A deep dive into a connection on a cellular level.

Sometimes the journey is so smooth we wonder what the catch is. Sometimes to simply stand still involves an awful lot of running on the spot.
It feels never ending. We wear out many pairs of trainers.

It feels like one stupid challenge after another .
It feels like there isn’t enough power left to achieve even a bit if it.

We need to be grounded.

And it can feel almost impossible sometimes, to have patience and faith in who we are.

This is no vanilla life. I have performed to thousands, and felt kinship with something bigger than all of us, lugged boxes of paint to tiny halls and felt something just as awe inspiring in teaching art with incredible people; lived in a 13 room house and been deeply lonely yet created a wonderland of fairy lights in an Edinburgh one bed: travelled the world seeing famous sights yet most gripped with wonder at the tiny hand holding mine after ten years of waiting for my angel to appear. I have seen New York at midnight, soaking up the atmosphere of a jazz club, thinking at the time I’ll be back soon. And then life got in the way. And the big things we think we can choose, aren’t so easy to just hand pick.

So we learn to make it all count. And to simply keep going.

There is much I could tell you about the tribulations over the last few years. Of those who didn’t appreciate Artists in a traditional place, of those who use control or try to dull your shine. But this is our happy space, yours and mine; and quite frankly it doesn’t belong here. Thankfully, with our zoo family and belongings in one piece, albeit in storage, back of car or in a selection of tiny boxes; we no longer need to close the curtains mid afternoon, because we held our nerve and travelled quietly to a different universe.

Beautiful Dartmouth with steep streets and glistening boats on the water

You forget.. all the little things you know, when you are used to functioning in your spot on earth. Places you get food, places you put your rubbish, post your letters, buy your guinea pig hay…Tip the floor a little, slide a few hundred miles and see if the same rules apply, the same shops exist, the same customs surprise, delight or horrify you ! We might all drive on the same side, but I am sure the roads change shape. In a new territory with a co-pilot intermittently checking a snap map and her messages, it was easy the first few days to feel like we were on Mars! .

But there was no doubt it was ever so pretty. ! Once we had figured out how the ferry worked and how to feed everybody the rest sort of fell into place….

A different view around every corner kept us driving that little bit further .. from a quick pit stop at Blackpool sands on the road through Torcross.

Followed by a drive through Kingsbridge and onwards, ever tempted to pull over with another beautiful view…The vista is beginning to open up once more..

Picture perfect Salcombe with its crowded slow squeeze of an arterial main town road to drive you and your car bonkers! Next time we’ll take the private jet. 😉 but the riviera yachts : how like the vintage posters we’ve loved for years!!.

A fascinating mix of old and new in our first taste of Brixham.

Kingsbridge, Torquay, Paignton and back to Dartmouth; every stop a different energy under a blue sky.

And behind the scenes….

What they didn’t tell you about the old woman who lived in a shoe; was that she was only in fact 19. The shoe was a chalet in Dartmouth and there was so much daily messy zoo funk, that she spent most of her time, carting bin bags in a wheelie bag and cleaning in ever decreasing circles She just looked 100. !!

All along, at every stage; underneath piles of boxes, sleeping on an air bed in my living room, both of us having to whittle our existence down to a teeny percentage of our stuff, our selves, not having anyone apart from our closest friends to tell our plans to, we kept the light on in our dream. Belief and trust were fed; and we smelt the coffee every day.

This now feels like home (ish) , even for a short while now I’ve planted something!

Doors may open, they may close, cards are dealt. When all is bleak you get more thinking done, or more creating done. You use it for planning or stopping. Nature abhors a vacuum. Once you make a big life change, in it comes; whooshing back in, possibilities, smiles from strangers, new things appear to see and explore. Our movements feel freer, like a holiday us. When I was asked why I wanted to move, my answer was, I needed to be more Liz. For all of us, our surroundings, our climate, our needs are our daily fuel.

Only you can know what makes you happy. (or what doesn’t )

Our feelings become painted over, like layers of armour. Daily pain, tolerating bad behaviour, or sadness or fear. Sadly, we get used to a version of ourselves, we think is us. My daughter and I knew changes were coming.

Change can be scary, but it can and does, gain us friendships, experiences, joy, and love. With a little patience to ride the waves of all this, the card games are exciting and different each time . I sit right now in a not quite knowing what will happen next space. In trust for what we’ve done so far, in what is to come. And that’s alright with me. Doing nothing? No thanks..

If you can see it, you’re a step closer. I am coveting this Moggy we saw , a beautiful very old lady! As some of you know my first car was a Morris Minor , a turquoise police car called Marmalade. One day, if I wish reeeeeeaaaaaalllly hard…!!!

In fairness, I am already pretty happy….

So as the journey continues its path , and as loved ones are missed, art supplies are stored, and classes are on hold; know that there is still eating well, exploring to do, and finally a little freedom to enjoy, fun as well as the frustrations; and with all these eggs being cracked, it’s promising to be one hell of an omelette.. xxx

Love, new horizons and sun cream, Liz at the Beach Hut xx

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Skye Blue House

July 16, 2022July 29, 2022 lizatthebeachhut

This little house will be loved by someone new soon.

Skye blue House or whatever it becomes will soon belong to a new family who will print their chapters into its story.

This house has served us well, a solid and warm place to be and feel, creative, a home by the sea with lots of potential and bags of charm. In five minutes you can walk to the beach, three minutes you can enjoy St Abbs harbour and a mile and a half walk to Coldingham, where a variety of community groups and activities await.