Long silence

Sorry for the long break in posts. I am in the middle of a conference I have been helping to organise ever since I started my job two years ago. Next week I fly to the UK for a month, so will probably not have much opportunity to post until the end of August. But then there will be lots of photos and stories to tell, so please come back for a visit. Thanks!

Moth Jam

There is a subtle clanging coming from the other side of the living room. Cumin is fishing for her quarry inside my great grandmother's jam pan.

Speech Bubble "I know there's a moth in here somewhere"

Winter tree

Parliament gardens

Sad June

June is again a mourning month. Last year it was my beloved Cookie, my shadow, my joy. This year it is an elderly relative. Today is her funeral and I can't be there. I feel I am in the wrong place at important times - the milestones are in a different hemisphere, in a zone I can't reach. It's as if I am peeking at a play from behind a heavy curtain. The play is actually my life and I'm banned from taking part. I know that sounds extreme, but that is the emotion deep in my gut and it just won't go away.

Coming home to flowers

Helps with the heavy heart. Thank you sweetheart for your thoughtfulness.

This filing tray is not big enough

Chinese takeaways

Cumin has a playmate. He arrived one evening, peeking through the French windows, spooking our big Tom cat who was dozing myopically with his nose against the glass.
The "boyfriend" is Tonkinese, very playful and gentle, and our little ginger biscuit loves him to bits. They are both very "slight" cats, but to hear them chasing each other around the deck, you'd think they were llamas wearing clogs.
A few times she has run into the house and he has almost followed her, but twitched nervously against the threshold, then darted away again. Here he is - we call him Charlie Chan. He deserves something more exotic, but I'm afraid the name has stuck.
I think she is telling tales about us. She is retrieving stale bits of bread I have thrown in the garden for the birds, which she leaves next to her food bowl. I can see the speech bubble over head as she whispers to him "They don't feed me you know - I'm reduced to eating birdfood"
But what worries me most is not her running off with the birdfood, but running of with a charming oriental!