There's a hole

There's a hole, a small niggling hole in the fresh expansiveness
I don't know what's inside it
I can't quite reach it, yet
There's a hole a small niggling hole where something of the future resides
It's exciting, undiscovered teritorry
But I know it's there

The return...

Ah we are home.  Home to spring; with snowdrops and daffodils in the garden and fresh billowing sunshine drying our clothes on the line.  Our trip was incredible, but now we've swapped vibrant, glorious heat buzzing night-markets, filled with stalls selling little coconut pancakes and mounds of fresh fruit; scorching coloured silks; handpainted paper umbrellas and all manner of exotica, for the cool orderly aisles of the Co-op.  I am now bumping into young mothers, commuters and villagers as I walk down the village street rather than Budhist monks, chattering laughing children and tuk tuk drivers. The moist warmth, the searing heat, the rivers and temples are a long plane-ride away but they are still with me when I close my eyes.

A small adventure...

Right now we are somewhere up in sky flying far far away.  It's a special trip and I am so incredibly excited.  We'll be gone for nearly three weeks and hopefully we will return full of adventures, stories and experiences.

Nocturne

his left leg over my right
his left hand on my thigh
mine on his
completely still under the layers
absorbing his warmth
willing him not to wake

Oh snow that sinks so light...

On Saturday snow came to the county, falling gently and subversivly in tiny flakes which surely would never settle.  We cut our evening out short as H (aka my lovely husband) claimed it was falling at such a rate we might be marooned... marooned? I poo-pooed the snow the whole way home.  Nevermind, suitably toasty in the cottage we lit a fire and snuggled in for the night.  On Sunday we woke to this view:

Ah, okay, so it had settled, H may have been right. After a morning pottering around doing jobs, we went out for a stroll (me feeling very smug in my wellies and super warm fleecy welly socks - I've barely taken them off since). We slip slided around a village filled with rosy children and adults triumphantly pulling sledges behind them, grinning broadly as they went. They thought they'd been cheated out of their yearly tobogan but Ha! No! January may have felt like spring but here they were, zipped up in puffa jackets, gloves soggy from snow, ears tingling and fresh from the thrill of the downhill slide. Wheeeeee!

On the green we were most impressed to find this amazingly constructed igloo. What skills! We must have a budding Bear Grylls in our midst:

We finished our stroll with a quick dip into the pub, me for a very good glass of Malbec and H a pint of nice local brew.  Suitably warmed and with the roads around us in a proper state we decided that we were indeed marooned and so spent the rest of the day mooching around the cottage, eating cheese and bread and anything else we could find in the cupboards! Perfection!

Hello

Hello.  This blog is about life living in a (very) traditional English village. This year is a year of fresh starts.  This is my first year as a married lady, my first year of living in an English village and my first year of writing this blog.  I'll be (gasp) 32 this year, which is more than just a toe in the water of my 30's, I'd say it's two feet firmly in.  So I anticipate lots of changes and, most importantly, lots of new adventures.