Another bright day over East Anglia with a blissfully bracing wind. I tied a plastic carrier bag around the washing line the other day so that the gas delivery men would stop reversing into it and snapping it, but so far it only seems to be acting as some sort of protective ward, stopping the gas from being delivered at all. In any case, it has ballooned up nicely and has been distracting the cat for a little while, giving me a break from rabbit and mice corpses. Must be the season – yesterday saw two field mice and a baby bunny devoured on our carpet…

While I wait for the washing machine to finish the first load I’ve had to do in ages, I am busy decanting my fabrics into their new boxes beneath the wash stand. It is a sad realisation I have come to that most of the things in this house which have – until this point at least – been unstorable, have been mine. Whilst the hi-fi corner does look as though a cable factory exploded, I will admit that all of the consoles and various amplifiers – yes, they are plural – have their proper place. For months now though, my knitting and sewing has hovered through the house, stashed in various nooks until a permanent arrangement could be reached.

And here we are, finally. At something akin to permanent. I can’t say how long we’ll be in this house for, nor how long we’ll even stay down south, but for now I’ve found something that could almost be described as a sense of peace, or at least an absence of restlessness. And for me, that’s pretty good going.

To celebrate, I am going to attempt to make a kiwi cake. Mostly because I have some kiwis. As always, I will only vaguely be following a recipe and will let you know the outcome after the event.

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