tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91897164143285403122024-03-14T04:57:46.401-07:00Ridgeway Cottage anyhowSusie Basshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07046166398632226398noreply@blogger.comBlogger489125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9189716414328540312.post-86751238774340749282021-09-26T12:05:00.001-07:002021-09-26T12:05:30.857-07:00Research Symposium: ART & JUSTICE Bethlem GallerySince the start of the COVID-19 Pandemic in 2020, there has been the opportunity to attend all manner of exciting events from the comfort of your own home, without travelling and being out there in the real world. I like this. I have got used to Zoom and Teams and video conferences is now part of my everyday life.<div><br /></div><div>This week I was able to attend an Art & Justice Research Symposium, still do some mum things and have lunch downstairs. I have never been to Bethlem Gallery and I have never met the artists who presented their work, but there they were on my screen and I was able to use the chat feature to talk to them directly and ask questions. I seriously think that is a wonderful thing and it just feels like more of a connection. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvvISwCyT0Lc0A7JiX2gY3qACMbiCccvvt6KDaY5wyGQwCnU2-5QjpFXbE0lm9D82QbztVufjCGxTsv_ivdEiAXMAT5EueRTtasrgrSRkuINfAMFflJ5j0UNjWQu-NLrlgZoPJxCZ0tU1M/s326/Yellow+Oclock.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="314" data-original-width="326" height="385" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvvISwCyT0Lc0A7JiX2gY3qACMbiCccvvt6KDaY5wyGQwCnU2-5QjpFXbE0lm9D82QbztVufjCGxTsv_ivdEiAXMAT5EueRTtasrgrSRkuINfAMFflJ5j0UNjWQu-NLrlgZoPJxCZ0tU1M/w400-h385/Yellow+Oclock.PNG" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Yellow O'clock - Portraits of my Diagnosis - 1st August 2017</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://bethlemgallery.com/who-we-are/" target="_blank">Bethlem Gallery</a> and <a href="https://museumofthemind.org.uk/about" target="_blank">Museum of the Mind</a> are situated on the site of Bethlem Royal Hospital which is a psychiatric hospital with an extensive history, has an important part to play in mad studies and my PhD research. It comes under the South London and Maudslay NHS Foundation Trust who diagnosed me as autistic and ADHD in the summer of 2017. As autism did not exist as a diagnosable condition until 1943 and St Mary's of Bethlehem (shortened to Bethlem and sometimes referred to as <a href="https://www.bbc.com/culture/article/20161213-how-bedlam-became-a-palace-for-lunatics" target="_blank">Bedlam</a>) was founded as a religious order in the 13th Century, it is very likely that many autistic people have been amongst those considered "mad" and deserving of a place in the asylum. Society has treated people with mental health conditions very poorly in the past and there are still plenty of discriminatory practices that occur. There are however some extremely vulnerable people in our society today that face intolerable injustices at the hands of those who are supposed to care for them and this symposium highlighted some of their suffering. </div><div><br /></div><div>The symposium was part of the 5 year multi-disciplinary research initiative, <a href="https://mhj.org.uk/" target="_blank">Mental Health and Justice Project</a>, the aims of which are to protect the vulnerable people in our society and respect their autonomy and agency. The promotion of autonomy and agency is a research aim of my PhD research so I have plenty to read and learn from this project.</div><div><br /></div><div>One of the other significant changes to society as a result of the pandemic, was a much greater awareness of the social inequalities and racism that <a href="https://blogs.lse.ac.uk/progressingplanning/2021/03/03/covid-19-global-pandemic-highlighting-socio-economic-and-racial-health-disparities/" target="_blank">BICOP communities</a> face around the world as a result of the murder of George Floyd by police on 25th May 2020. Activism in support of Black Lives Matter made this a global issue that could no longer be ignored.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV9DHE0p5hZLwbFMyzjn6UkGqhiHD5A-CkXrUQlYY24lhZsj9-3KicZNiNOzZPmEAW8Anhz1tTuVRd6CgB1sQSjMt5hxbGKxXPTdQuEZl1hjl2IcNh5XY8F0SVstr-ZtGd9ULqBzexuHkV/s314/Black+lives+Matter.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="314" data-original-width="307" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV9DHE0p5hZLwbFMyzjn6UkGqhiHD5A-CkXrUQlYY24lhZsj9-3KicZNiNOzZPmEAW8Anhz1tTuVRd6CgB1sQSjMt5hxbGKxXPTdQuEZl1hjl2IcNh5XY8F0SVstr-ZtGd9ULqBzexuHkV/w391-h400/Black+lives+Matter.PNG" width="391" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Mini Protest Banner - Black Lives Matter - Canterbury Cathedral, June 2020</div><div><br /></div><div>I placed my own mini protest banner outside of Canterbury Cathedral on the day of one of the many protest marches that took place and called the Archbishop of Canterbury and MP for Canterbury Rosie Duffield to action.</div><div><br /></div><div>Art as a means of protest is powerful. Two of the artists at the symposium Mark Titchner and Jade Monserrat spoke of their work in support of the Black Lives Matter Movement. </div><div><br /></div><div>In June 2020, Mark had an installation placed around the boarders of Bethlem Hospital, <i>Some Questions About Us</i>, which was graffitied shortly after the death of George Floyd, as commentary about the death of Olaseni Lewis. He was a 23-year old black man who died after being restrained by the police at the hospital in 2010. This led to the making of the documentary, <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/news/ng-interactive/2021/aug/12/rip-seni-racism-graffiti-and-the-uks-mental-health-crisis-video" target="_blank">RIP SENI directed by Daisy Ifama</a>.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8-zAzixoC-HX5nCCVRXv6oLhON1jRIHlRoD3sX7JKX10FNtGn37Mu-4fK0_pRIE_a8vWER63Ix06nowJ1Iq9Q3cabZZa_yrg4KVQ087KUXsUGAZS1bcObiHENB_43FDgOyKXfDZMMhlBx/s917/Mark.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="583" data-original-width="917" height="254" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8-zAzixoC-HX5nCCVRXv6oLhON1jRIHlRoD3sX7JKX10FNtGn37Mu-4fK0_pRIE_a8vWER63Ix06nowJ1Iq9Q3cabZZa_yrg4KVQ087KUXsUGAZS1bcObiHENB_43FDgOyKXfDZMMhlBx/w400-h254/Mark.PNG" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Click <a href="http://marktitchner.com/work/some-questions-about-us/" target="_blank"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">here</span></b></a> for a link to Mark's website and more information about Some Questions About Us, the original public art work.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>Jade Monserrat shared the story of another death, that of <a href="https://jademontserrat.com/2018/12/14/some-possibilities-of-rural-belongings/" target="_blank">Sarah Reed</a>, who died in Holloway Prison. Jade produced a risograph for Transport for London in memory of Sarah in 2018.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyfMrvViKWoUUgkmVdjyZo0_AD-HtpN1ELLY4U3loDL9gfJtN8A5iRUy36Xm5JoWIVWqDnXDbA7SlQQj2zQFREGbMTtHEMV1KeBoCzGaO5KwaOTa2worw-RUpEvXFOdUm7U1JRmdVLlUJx/s506/jade.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="506" data-original-width="357" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyfMrvViKWoUUgkmVdjyZo0_AD-HtpN1ELLY4U3loDL9gfJtN8A5iRUy36Xm5JoWIVWqDnXDbA7SlQQj2zQFREGbMTtHEMV1KeBoCzGaO5KwaOTa2worw-RUpEvXFOdUm7U1JRmdVLlUJx/w283-h400/jade.PNG" width="283" /></a></div><br /> <span style="background-color: white; font-family: nj-book; font-size: 16px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://art.tfl.gov.uk/shop/in-memory-of-sarah-reed/" target="_blank">Jade Montserrat, 'In memory of Sarah Reed', 2018. Risograph print for Art on the Underground. </a></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>The final artist to present at the symposium was <a href="https://dollysen.com/" target="_blank">Dolly Sen</a>, whose sense of humour expressed through her art is something that I can relate to as this is the way that I tend to approach subjects that are difficult... although I do tend to go a bit heavy on the satire sometimes. I particularly like Dolly's <a href="https://dollysen.com/art/mr-men-do-psychiatry/" target="_blank">Mr Men do Psychiatry </a> . My favourite is <i>Mr Discharged from Services for Smiling Once.</i> Anyone who has had to engage with ADHD services will be able to relate to this one. I secretly suspect that there is a sweepstake going on who they can discharge from services the fastest and that the set up is designed to make ADHD people feel successful for racking up record scores. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmtj0jcDu3M5jByUVQt4J9icmzHYAg0VWiHSM2dwYlyhow_c2QNrN2zEhfmNxU87fb68sarDY12qKFjxl3Q4stowJVvfxD9X86iA4srw6svgo40TheAYtyKqLw8d_LPbX-bNsg5aO5juLz/s357/Mr+Discharged+from+services.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="341" data-original-width="357" height="383" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmtj0jcDu3M5jByUVQt4J9icmzHYAg0VWiHSM2dwYlyhow_c2QNrN2zEhfmNxU87fb68sarDY12qKFjxl3Q4stowJVvfxD9X86iA4srw6svgo40TheAYtyKqLw8d_LPbX-bNsg5aO5juLz/w400-h383/Mr+Discharged+from+services.PNG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div>Dolly's has also <a href="https://dollysen.com/news-interviews-press/" target="_blank">Sectioned the 'DWP'</a> and her latest work commissioned for the current <a href="https://bethlemgallery.com/event/research-exhibition-art-justice/" target="_blank">research exhibition</a> at Bethlem Gallery, is a giant listening ear. I was struck by Dolly's intention to listen to the stories but never to author them which is something that I am going to take away with me from the symposium. In my own research into the impact of craft om mental health , I want to create opportunities for people to tell their stories but I don't ever want to turn them into 'a story about their story'. That will be my challenge, how do I write a thesis that doesn't try to make other people's life fit my narrative? I hope to go to the exhibition and perhaps whisper these research dilemmas into the listening ear and maybe somewhere within the walls of Bethlem, I will find some answers. </div><div><br /></div><div>Thank you to everyone who was part of the symposium, for making it such an inspiring and thought provoking day. I don't really do it justice with these notes because these are lives and the struggles of people who have reached the point of crisis, however I do have lived experience and will try to use my knowledge to support change. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCgKKI8jny93MYbOIkgp2hz2xDKzSnAWrTErNwuMKwtGOKZoMtU9fEig9XijOYeUIIJwISBsZIH7w_sjgTHrv7G1-caAG_nkz8cS95iqBww-GCJDS0l1OKYMLTDbxX9yib3VAXlku140hK/s891/Capture.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="891" data-original-width="889" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCgKKI8jny93MYbOIkgp2hz2xDKzSnAWrTErNwuMKwtGOKZoMtU9fEig9XijOYeUIIJwISBsZIH7w_sjgTHrv7G1-caAG_nkz8cS95iqBww-GCJDS0l1OKYMLTDbxX9yib3VAXlku140hK/w638-h640/Capture.PNG" width="638" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;">A dragon is auditioning for gone with the wind - Portraits of support inspired by the Research Symposium: ART & JUSTICE Bethlem Gallery - 25th September 2021</div><div><br /><div><br /></div></div>Susie Basshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07046166398632226398noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9189716414328540312.post-70672476624466038472021-09-21T12:02:00.002-07:002021-09-21T12:02:15.148-07:00Is it insomnia or is it just roadworks?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi8anqrCiNloTDCs4MZA7ZvdKUVZyJ88HkhghgwvRnjtOohJpISd-jLmG_U5XHAU7RuSQHm5mmqYmu04O9Lci2cBjSQt2nGRyLx7ozX6t_l6ey1B3y4T_J2c7Ui320l8IYR3t1WUth8Pez/s2048/Road+works+September.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1363" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi8anqrCiNloTDCs4MZA7ZvdKUVZyJ88HkhghgwvRnjtOohJpISd-jLmG_U5XHAU7RuSQHm5mmqYmu04O9Lci2cBjSQt2nGRyLx7ozX6t_l6ey1B3y4T_J2c7Ui320l8IYR3t1WUth8Pez/w266-h400/Road+works+September.jpg" width="266" /></a></div>
<p>I’ve stopped defining myself as suffering from insomnia because otherwise it would
make my whole life a tragedy. It’s not even correct to describe myself as a
“bad sleeper” because that implies that there is the potential of a better me
existing: a superior Susie whose worth is more significant because she
sleeps. Right from day 1, this has been a complaint and judgment made against me. All
of the worst diagnosis of disordered existence measure your ability or inability to sleep. I regularly fail to achieve the recommended hours.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p>I once spent a night in the Royal Free Hospital, to see if “someone could
get to the bottom of this.”<br />It’s ironic to note that I wasn’t quite sure what the point of this sleep
deprivation trial was at the time and google wasn’t available at the time (early 1990s). I’ve just googled it and still haven’t got a clue, but it seems I could pay a
lot of money if I wanted to investigate further at any point. I doubt I am the only late diagnosed adult to have been put through any number of medical procedures and investigations.</p><p><br />
Any how, I was admitted in the early evening and given a bed on a ward that I wasn’t allowed to use,
other than for observations at several points during the night, including
monitoring my heart and brain waves. It was a very dull night with quite a lot
of time feeling very uncomfortable being hooked up to various beeping machines
. Finding myself writing that sentence now and knowing that as an autistic person, those high pitched sounds hurt my soul, I can
really appreciate where my aversion to hospitals and the related medical
trauma responses come from.<o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNMz0Z-Hso9gSijfAzxp9VIzJdUzlzhx1NwNtfPZvNfCFE9unOBWER8LxzY7S7J8PAvhbk5z_6_tOUwFXgZwrcCuksjAKAxd7omkBdQuFmCkNx_N98Wgt4jGtg0QyNJrnkORgmxxJ0bjR2/s1280/The+fury+September+21.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="701" data-original-width="1280" height="219" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNMz0Z-Hso9gSijfAzxp9VIzJdUzlzhx1NwNtfPZvNfCFE9unOBWER8LxzY7S7J8PAvhbk5z_6_tOUwFXgZwrcCuksjAKAxd7omkBdQuFmCkNx_N98Wgt4jGtg0QyNJrnkORgmxxJ0bjR2/w400-h219/The+fury+September+21.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">This images are from <a href="https://www.denofgeek.com/movies/the-fury-brian-de-palma-s-underrated-explosive-movie/" target="_blank">here</a>, if you want to find even more about The Fury</div><p>To pass the time that I was hooked up to the science, I imagined myself in one of the leading roles of <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0077588/" target="_blank">The Fury</a>.
Thanks to my late night googling, I can tell you The Fury is a 1978 film about
supernatural powers, the separation of a father and son and the theme of studying the telekinetic powers of children in order to weaponise
them against the enemy, very popular in the 1970s.</p><p><o:p></o:p></p><p><br /></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhffhXbB2pLnQbOzcnhCS2XAd7FrCPPkD4Uc5PFRhQhR8LoXeBI0FIb83H1vxDHQEFRKRZCBqcQVjtHz6lGUuraEukv8bUFVnGrKq3TL5Nw7vQijDrMIn0xP0cQ7YVmTj7cZzDKAobcdZKn/s630/The+fury+2+September+2021.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="345" data-original-width="630" height="219" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhffhXbB2pLnQbOzcnhCS2XAd7FrCPPkD4Uc5PFRhQhR8LoXeBI0FIb83H1vxDHQEFRKRZCBqcQVjtHz6lGUuraEukv8bUFVnGrKq3TL5Nw7vQijDrMIn0xP0cQ7YVmTj7cZzDKAobcdZKn/w400-h219/The+fury+2+September+2021.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p>Amy Irvine played Gillian, who either starred in to space in a trance like
state or pulled the most extraordinarily emotional and expressive faces as her powers overwhelmed her physical being.</p><p><o:p></o:p></p>
<p>As I wasn’t allowed to be on the ward unless it was time for the scheduled
monitoring, I was permitted to be in the “day room” and that’s where I met
the other none sleepers. These were the days when the "day room" was also the "smoking room". It seems bizarre to think of smoking inside a hospital now but at
the time, it was perfectly acceptable and throughout the night there were
people in there. The majority were from the psychiatric wards, some inpatients
waiting for transfers to secure units for assessment, some accompanied by staff
and the odd "normal" person who were nervous about operations the next day. The question,
“what are you in for?” was common. The element of competition over the number
of sectionings under the <a href="https://www.legislation.gov.uk/ukpga/1983/20/contents" target="_blank">Mental Health Act 1983</a>, dominated conversations, as did
the tally of diagnosis and labels awarded to each individual. I ranked low.
Firstly for only being in over night, secondly for not being on a secure ward,
thirdly for the investigation of a sleep issue (these clearly were insignificant
which was a fair point as we were holding these discussions in a day room in
the middle of the night). Psychological and emotional distress was also
a key feature of all of the people I met that night but no one questioned the pathology and medicalisation of their
situation. I walked out the next morning with that bizarre numbness that comes
with the exhaustion of being awake all night and went for a swim on Hampstead
Heath. I didn’t sleep until much later that evening and even now, when I can’t
sleep, I remember back to that night, where I didn’t sleep and all those
medical tests discovered no reason for this. </p><p>I didn’t sleep and I was fine,
there was nothing wrong. </p><p>I didn’t have an observable abnormality in my brain.
This wasn’t the first or last time my brain was tested either, but this
occasion did offer lasting reassurance that my not sleeping wasn’t a disease or
an illness.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p>So as I lie here awake, reminiscing of how demonised not sleeping is by the
medical profession and how insomnia is part of my existence, I do wonder what
is the cause of tonight’s awakeness is. I could romanticise my restlessness and talk of the
last harvest moon of the summer, rituals of cleaning, of letting go of
everything that no longer serves me and charging crystals.</p><p><o:p></o:p></p>
<p>I could attribute it to the transition of kid 1 into an adult and all
that is associated with that life changing event. </p><p>Perhaps it’s just the stress that
all teachers and students feel at the start of the academic year?</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXIqjA2vKTaYYUvhPVCmyh3oR0h_xDp24tYs5pFD0fNwFKRc3RMrhq9a0x2px6BoiNC4SJ7N5vsqsefwxO5yC5dN5mWRqVemCkEa86FSgBNzQKj_Wv61jhZukiIqvRCA9tjAbvaEZR4PZT/s2048/Road+works+2+Septmeber+2021.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1535" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXIqjA2vKTaYYUvhPVCmyh3oR0h_xDp24tYs5pFD0fNwFKRc3RMrhq9a0x2px6BoiNC4SJ7N5vsqsefwxO5yC5dN5mWRqVemCkEa86FSgBNzQKj_Wv61jhZukiIqvRCA9tjAbvaEZR4PZT/w300-h400/Road+works+2+Septmeber+2021.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p>.... or perhaps it is just road works because my autistic ears do find it
difficult to sleep to the sound of pneumatic drills and workmen shouting at
each other and so does my dog. He’s been growling at them for hours and conned
me into letting him out into the garden to bark at them. He even sneaked a
quick chase and bark out the back, just in case the fox was thinking of paying
us a visit. As to why I am so sensitive to sound and why I don’t always sleep
at night, I now have diagnosis of autism, ADHD and complex PTSD to
start to understand this better but I do still like to imagine it as a
supernatural superpower for channelling my own fury.<o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFd1wbhYP-xVE1MVpOFzwick3sgMAVYBP_O7AmFVU3N7PenoeHx9QjPWvBrN-WksikQ8OfTDCtF3qopLlO_OGkF69tFmnUUCx4Hx3OuCTthf2EfSpzDbSWmvh1hx0FS7hLIAZpKltTF9WS/s795/Eleven.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="795" data-original-width="685" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFd1wbhYP-xVE1MVpOFzwick3sgMAVYBP_O7AmFVU3N7PenoeHx9QjPWvBrN-WksikQ8OfTDCtF3qopLlO_OGkF69tFmnUUCx4Hx3OuCTthf2EfSpzDbSWmvh1hx0FS7hLIAZpKltTF9WS/w345-h400/Eleven.jpg" width="345" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;">An image of <a href="https://strangerthings.fandom.com/wiki/Eleven" target="_blank">Eleven</a> from Stranger Things</p>Susie Basshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07046166398632226398noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9189716414328540312.post-32316074633416203842021-09-15T22:59:00.003-07:002021-09-15T22:59:47.305-07:00Esther WhitneyWhat I would like more than anything else as a result of my PhD, is for research about autistic people to be directed by, include and be accessible to autistic people and so I have started to look for people that might be interested in contributing their creative stories.<div><br /></div><div>The first person I spoke to was Esther Whitney following the <a href="https://playingapartautisticgirls.org/events/beyond-stereotypes-conference-2021/" target="_blank">Play a Part : Beyond Stereotypes conference</a> in September 2012. Esther is currently completely a Masters in Research in Education exploring the lived experiences of autistic adolescent girls in mainstream education. As part of her plan for her thesis, she created the following art work to express her own lived experiences of being an undiagnosed autistic student in a mainstream school.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQI2nDpIStlnQcQM-W7yZlUSHHAdaNC5U3qmPMRhH4hkxjnM8l-R7uid83h9SIgJGQ2Hv0Ww9tPXRt2Tu18JrI7fwMLmU9ONXbGvldOGWGhk-rrsXXN2Q2O5V5nQzYjZZIxPVSXoaD9Faw/s916/Esther+Whitney+2.PNG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="647" data-original-width="916" height="226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQI2nDpIStlnQcQM-W7yZlUSHHAdaNC5U3qmPMRhH4hkxjnM8l-R7uid83h9SIgJGQ2Hv0Ww9tPXRt2Tu18JrI7fwMLmU9ONXbGvldOGWGhk-rrsXXN2Q2O5V5nQzYjZZIxPVSXoaD9Faw/s320/Esther+Whitney+2.PNG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCr9LGgoFcRn_a1V7vd7H6nPBRPcRfmLNsbC_VSKWkf_cyv_U0R9y3vMaBCet6poluFm0mL7OVc2daEOwrBvP4UrqmUaV6ekCr-rBlm3LC8WIpRhGGO5Rs99cPV7xZWDUyvhbzpACT6uLA/s838/Esther+Whitney+3.PNG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="657" data-original-width="838" height="251" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCr9LGgoFcRn_a1V7vd7H6nPBRPcRfmLNsbC_VSKWkf_cyv_U0R9y3vMaBCet6poluFm0mL7OVc2daEOwrBvP4UrqmUaV6ekCr-rBlm3LC8WIpRhGGO5Rs99cPV7xZWDUyvhbzpACT6uLA/s320/Esther+Whitney+3.PNG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik1tcm2lP2gSXI3OIRs4_26Qzqlp3fWFLcOLki8yGdrdBuR7l4kwqlwVnoDb8tYZRwkOdvdH4xyePF95Nf7b4CJ_fmJ4w7LjFXjgr-0kYDllS7pD8RlHfVSKNVLqGWKsY7BML6FT4GrPHl/s906/Esther+Whitney.PNG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="670" data-original-width="906" height="237" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik1tcm2lP2gSXI3OIRs4_26Qzqlp3fWFLcOLki8yGdrdBuR7l4kwqlwVnoDb8tYZRwkOdvdH4xyePF95Nf7b4CJ_fmJ4w7LjFXjgr-0kYDllS7pD8RlHfVSKNVLqGWKsY7BML6FT4GrPHl/s320/Esther+Whitney.PNG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Esther Whitney 2021</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: medium;">They say a picture says 1000 words. I often feel that art explains my experiences as a autistic person far better than words ever could and for me 'the artist' I find it a relief to be able to communicate on such a deeper level my experience than by just using words alone. I'm starting to work on my next creative project which is my experience of dehumanisation as an autistic person and reclaiming my autistic empowerment.</span></i></div><br /><div>She described to me how the walls of the box can go up and down depending on whether the people in her environment are either empowering or disempowering her. For Esther, the walls went up when her attempts to ask for help in school were interpreted as her "being difficult". </div><div><br /></div><div>Esther was not diagnosed as autistic whilst at school, despite transferring to a special school. Like many women (or people assigned female at birth), her struggles and difficulties were not seen as indicators of autism until much later. She was 21 when she finally received her diagnosis and in response studied her undergraduate degree in art and design which gave her the opportunity to process this. Creativity provided freedom of expression and gave her a way to communicate the difficulties and past traumas that words could not express. Whilst studying, Esther's sculpture, "A Thimble Full" won the Create!Art for Autism contest and her work was displayed in the Houses of Parliament in 2012. </div><div><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Stereotypes and myths about what autism
is can prevent access to diagnosis and barriers to support. Esther, like too
many other young people, found school incredibly difficult because her unique
and individual autistic way of being wasn’t recognised. She didn’t fit
what people consider autism to look like. We need to do better; we need to
create an environment where everyone has the opportunity to learn, and we need
to do that by listening to the autistic person. They are after all, the leading
experts in the field, on their own autism and what helps them. </span></div><div><br /></div>Susie Basshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07046166398632226398noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9189716414328540312.post-72095530893979709982021-09-14T12:30:00.000-07:002021-09-14T12:30:15.972-07:00A pig dressed in cowboy boots <div style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" id="id_bb65_d1ca_d884_2201" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/aswqEOu4IozZM4Z1fK21ZzdcT6wYv5yWjHTKywXOlZSR9jSb1Rosb6rpm6FrTD4L0ms" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /></div><br /> <div style="text-align: center;">Who does actually have the power in society? </div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://brooklynartlibrary.org/projects/new28day" target="_blank">Day 11 of the Brooklyn Art Library 28 Day Challenge</a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">A pig dressed in cowboy boots</div><div><br /></div><div>Some people give nothing away with their facial expressions. This is often referred to as masking and it is not just autistic people who mask, everyone does it at some point in their lives in order to survive. I watched the BBC documentary <a href="https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/m000z8p5" target="_blank">911: Inside the President's War Room</a> recently where George Bush, the president of the USA at the time of the 911 terrorists attacks, was being filmed live as he was informed of the unfolding events.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMssZMplPa4GDpt8og10_bNgmGxfakdSJ7oYbqnTpNsxgBqXg028EwG951BlZwMiboI1DaQdhShox8C_dOv04aT4RtFfs6Qcu_v5KXYP22wTe5dZFTUq1QVERJ1gt7oWD6HDB6BlhIfnce/s1108/George+Bush+masking.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="901" data-original-width="1108" height="260" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMssZMplPa4GDpt8og10_bNgmGxfakdSJ7oYbqnTpNsxgBqXg028EwG951BlZwMiboI1DaQdhShox8C_dOv04aT4RtFfs6Qcu_v5KXYP22wTe5dZFTUq1QVERJ1gt7oWD6HDB6BlhIfnce/s320/George+Bush+masking.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div>This photos shows the moment US President George W. Bush had a school reading event interrupted with the news that the first plane had crashed into one of the twin towers in New York, 11 September 2001 (Paul J. Richards - Affiliated Free Press via Getty Images).</div><div><br /></div><div>As the<span style="font-family: times;"> day progressed and the horror continued, it becomes very much a question of power and his ability to control and contain his anger</span>. This wasn't something I had considered before, that there would be commonalities between George Bush and myself and the masking of rage in relation to power in balances. And that is where I will leave him because I am more concerned with the everyday inequalities associated with power and privilege and the truth behind the our Insta-worthy façade.</div><div><br /></div><div>All challenges involve learning something about the subject and yourself. It has been so long since I did any drawing and the prompts for the 28 day challenge are hard. Not only do I have to imagine how I'm going to interpret the prompts but also how I'm going to draw them and obviously they need some kind of backstory... and a social political message. I sometimes feel that studying art at University was detrimental to my creative expression and that is most definitely where I contracted the worst strain of perfectionism. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>My pig dressed in cowboy boots is based on Napoleon and Mollie from Animal Farm by George Orwell. I studied this book for O level English Literature at school and it had a significant impact on me. I have and always will be on the side of the underdog. I can't stand lies, deceit or the manipulation of others for personal gain. Yet there, lurking everywhere in society is the essence of Napoleon and the cycle of oppression - rebellion - corruption. Like Mollie and her pre-occupation with ribbons and sugar, we are manipulated into believing that fast fashion, diet culture and eternal youth are the key to our happiness. If we could just get those #pinkcowboyboots from Zara trending on TikTok, that thigh gap in denim hot pants and fool people into believing that we are only seventeen, everyone will think we are pretty and love us. Ta dah Utopia, the black becomes white, boss girls rule the world and no one, not even the pig dressed in cowboy boots has been brainwashed into believing that internalised misogyny and the patriarchy weren't what we were dreaming of after all. Our very own Sugarcandy Mountain.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY01FGyKUHU1SLeaKooe6W0_ynQP4D_wzFNfVwcN6UExiObjBcJiGqWx9cXnzxPwiLi36gDyoj1PHMFCRU-ULTCEIVJhmjnwyA1eabPmAmVCYuptNNTdSR4L3Ckko6zALkYgLqy21SwPBV/s750/eye.jpg%2521Large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="571" data-original-width="750" height="244" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY01FGyKUHU1SLeaKooe6W0_ynQP4D_wzFNfVwcN6UExiObjBcJiGqWx9cXnzxPwiLi36gDyoj1PHMFCRU-ULTCEIVJhmjnwyA1eabPmAmVCYuptNNTdSR4L3Ckko6zALkYgLqy21SwPBV/s320/eye.jpg%2521Large.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /> </div><div><h3 style="font-family: "Roboto Condensed"; font-size: 24px; line-height: 26px; margin: 0px 0px 8px; padding: 0px; text-align: center; word-break: break-word;">Eye <a href="https://www.wikiart.org/en/m-c-escher" style="color: #0057a3; font-family: Roboto; font-size: 16px; font-weight: 400; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_self">M.C. Escher</a></h3><ul style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><li style="font-family: Roboto; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px; list-style: none; margin: 0px 0px 10px; overflow: hidden; padding: 0px; position: relative; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #a4a4a4; display: inline-block;">Date:</span> <span itemprop="dateCreated">1946</span></li></ul></div><div><br /></div><div> <a href="https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/m000z8p5" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: content-box; color: rgb(255, 255, 255) !important; display: inline-block; font-family: "Gill Sans MT", Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 52px; outline: 0px; text-decoration-line: none;">9/11: Inside the President's War Room</a></div>Susie Basshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07046166398632226398noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9189716414328540312.post-80726398830094966992021-09-12T23:38:00.001-07:002021-09-14T07:04:00.326-07:00The sound of silence <img alt="" id="id_fe06_addc_5cdc_2f6a" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/9OLUIyONmQ4Gd5C-hnlg8NtKpHX7qI9rhoVgXn1MtFw7gncjPmIUKpBC8nro5tP1rzI" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br /><br /> <div><p style="font-family: ".SF UI"; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span face="".SFUI-Regular"">This morning I have woken up early after making the decision not to go for a run. I feel so overwhelmed after reconnecting with my autistic self that my head feels funny. I feel like Josie did when she was younger and wanted to know <a href="https://ridgewaycottage.blogspot.com/2013/03/we-are-all-stardust.html" target="_blank">how black holes are made </a>so we went to the planetarium to find out. I feel like my diagnosis was the big bang and I’m still dusting off the debris and rebuilding the authentic Susie. I can hear the omnipresent low level white noise after shock the sonic boom. My autistic ears are the most significant aspect of my diagnosis, the most noticeable change. It’s very much like now they have been given recognition, I can’t turn them off. They are continuously screaming at me, “you feel sound” . It’s noises that wake me up at night. The hearing part of my brain can’t step away from the hyper vigilance caused by the avalanche of trauma I’ve had to revisit in the last 4 years. The are the main character.</span></p>
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<p style="font-family: ".SF UI"; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span face="".SFUI-Regular"">I used to think there was something wrong with my hearing because I couldn’t hear the thing I was supposed to be paying attention to. What my diagnosis did was help me to understand that I wasn’t paying attention because my brain had zoned out and turned off because it heard everything and couldn’t filter all of the information and focus on just one aspect. When I relive the traumas of my past, they are like silent movies which layer the images and the emotions of separate traumas into a swirling emotional storm but there is no sound. The soundtrack is disconnected and appears as external interference from the here and now. </span></p>
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<p style="font-family: ".SF UI"; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span face="".SFUI-Regular"">Not long after I started studying for my masters in autism studies I interviewed an autistic person who had Hyperacusis, a condition where the individual has acute noise sensitivity. This was so relatable, however for this person the distress and negative impact it caused for them was so extreme that they wanted an operation to make them deaf. There are other hearing differences experienced by autistic people such a misophonia, where certain sounds make you angry or phonophobia where some sounds trigger anxiety. For me I think it’s more complicated than meeting criteria for specific medicalised disorders. We live in a noisy world and so it’s important for me find ways to manage that now that I am aware it’s an issue for me.</span></p>
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<p style="font-family: ".SF UI"; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span face="".SFUI-Regular"">Reducing anxiety </span></p>
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<p style="font-family: ".SF UI"; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span face="".SFUI-Regular"">This is where I use input to reduce output and music is the thing that helps the most. I have seasonal playlists, not based on the orbit of the sun but more related to significant periods of time for me. These are the playlists that I use when I go for a run, early in the morning when the world is silent and beautiful. Running allows me to access states of flow and that helps me which is one of the reasons I am researching this for my PhD. I capture that moment in my whole physical consciousness, what it looked like, how it felt emotional and physically and I mentally sync it to a song. Sometimes I make a TikTok to record these moments, sometimes I take photos but the key point is that the song / playlist triggers those memories and I can relive them. It’s a little bit like exploiting the essence of PTSD flashbacks and my knowledge of how they work. All the positive aspects of my morning runs are readily available in Spotify for times during the day, where noise causes anxiety, like going to the supermarket.</span></p><p style="font-family: ".SF UI"; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span face="".SFUI-Regular""><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: ".SF UI"; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Short video of the silence of the early morning <a href="https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMRH7gP1b/">https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMRH7gP1b/</a></p><p style="font-family: ".SF UI"; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span face="".SFUI-Regular""><br /></span></p></div>Susie Basshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07046166398632226398noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9189716414328540312.post-32533298956605391452021-09-12T10:00:00.001-07:002021-09-12T12:08:39.053-07:00Where do I begin?<p>I started writing this blog in 2010. When I look back at the first post which is <a href="https://ridgewaycottage.blogspot.com/2010/09/where-to-start.html" target="_blank">here</a>, I feel exactly like I did in that moment but at the same time, like an entirely different person. A blog is only a snapshot of carefully curated thoughts however, I remember and relive them with such clarity, it's no longer a surprise that I can't remember the dull, mundane and boring aspects of life. </p><p>I stopped writing for a really long time because I couldn't articulate the tidal wave of emotions I was feeling after my BOGF diagnosis in 2017. I did in fact get two free labels (ASD and PTSD) even though I only ever signed up for an ADHD diagnosis. I couldn't talk about certain aspects of the process or the consequences because it is not just a story about me. My body did, entirely keep the score as I painfully discovered. A lot of the things I wanted to say, where things that people didn't want to hear. Society is very selective about what subjects are appropriate for discussion. The more I reflected on what had happened to get me to the point I was at, the more angry I became and the more people tried to silence me. I was a lone voice trying to address social injustice and no one was going to listen to someone on the edge of visibility.</p><p>So I decided to find some other people who had similar experiences or would understand what I was trying to say and that took a long time. I also found some different ways of communicating, what is sometimes too difficult to express in words. I got myself a Masters in Autism Studies and then started a PhD in May 2021. I have plenty to say and I have spoken to other people who have also struggled to get themselves heard. Social communication difficulties are often considered to be a key difficulty stereotypically associated with autism. My experience has been that I have had difficulty getting people to either listen to what I say or to understand why I am saying it and I do not believe that the fault lies entirely with me. Sometimes the best way to get yourself heard, is to say it in a different or creative way.</p><p><img alt="" id="id_a60b_c47c_bb95_10f7" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/W-zBuRNRmVZxUJ60-w8IDOWp5fMqXI2ZaqJGSeOH4on1s1d3pZ2bHu8niqRbjn3EYIw" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br /><br /><br /></p>Susie Basshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07046166398632226398noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9189716414328540312.post-64472923143475131982020-04-18T02:18:00.001-07:002021-09-11T04:43:00.970-07:00A nice cup of tea<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 12px;">In non- Coronavirus times, you can often tell a lot about someone by the way they present themselves on social media, but now more than ever you can see their underlying values. Some people post motivational memes, others are political, there are people swept up in fear perpetuated by the media, the virtuous, the community builders, those embracing the chance to appreciate what they have, the commenters on behaviours, the manipulators and the exploiters. I tend to fall into many of those categories, however I view capitalisation of self-interest to be abhorrent when society is relying so heavy on lower paid workers risking their lives to support others. It’s not a time to take advantage of the misfortunes of others, to attribute financial value to your self importance and to hide your actions from people who might challenge the ethics of such behaviour. This is a time to share and care. A time for compassion and understanding. There will be plenty of opportunities after lockdown to rebuild our lives and consider how much of the old business model we want to take forward. The whole world has gone quiet and the environment is getting a chance to recover from the toxic consequences of capitalism . Use your social media well, it’s a permanent record of your attitudes and beliefs.</span><br />
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 12px;">“I’ve nearly finished my cup of tea but it’s gone a bit cold. I might drink that and I might make another one.” Facebook update April 2020</span></div>
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Susie Basshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07046166398632226398noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9189716414328540312.post-70827174169567907192019-01-05T12:06:00.001-08:002021-09-11T04:45:09.574-07:00How do you feel about fireworks?<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Happy 2019! </span><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div><div><img id="id_b8a1_243a_f58b_13f" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-UG2pVycww_k/XDEOTNG-ykI/AAAAAAAAQBE/4CzZ2X-0P9QFjsRsnx4wDyLYpwjV2ErAwCHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 298px; height: auto;"><br><br><div style="text-align: center;"><i style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Fireworks over Alexandra Palace - this is what fireworks meant to me for years</i></div><div><br></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I appear to have taken a break from blogging, not because I wanted to but because I couldn’t find the words. I wonder if writers’ block is just a fancy way of saying, “I lost all of my words.” That’s what happened to me, I lost nearly every single one of them for quite a lot of the time for over a year. There were of course a million thoughts in my head, going at a million miles an hour but they were all caught in a massive tangle of scribble. There was no way of logically stringing them out into sentences. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><img id="id_82b4_aa2a_eabe_f8a6" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-zGiYfXX27MQ/XDEOTcIqwPI/AAAAAAAAQBI/CdmQY-ihXHc_scvBdVNt83DYuz8TUf09wCHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 298px; height: auto;"><br></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://scribbleitaway.wordpress.com/2016/10/04/exercise-scribble-drawing/" id="id_dc01_12ff_9f33_a586">Scribble it Away </a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">That’s how I feel about fireworks. However it might be more accurate to describe the millions of trapped unspoken thoughts as a blaze in a firework factory. The easiest response to explain is the sensory overload. They are pretty, there’s no doubt about that, but they are so noisy and triggering for my hypersensitive sense of smell. I can feel the crackle of fireworks radiating from the nerves of my spinal cord. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">My poor rescue collie is petrified of fireworks and hides in the darkest corner under my desk, shaking. Where once fireworks for me was the mega packed shuffle as one slow moving mass of people, crawling up to the top of the world at Alexandra Palace, I now lay under the desk with him. I feel the fireworks through his fear, each jump and start from every boom and bang. I feel frustration and annoyance on his behalf. I could seriously get quite grumpy and moany as my intolerance rises, but this isn’t what I find hardest.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">The way I truly feel when I hear fireworks is something much more complex. I experience them differently from my autistic perspective, I emphasise with my dog and try to comfort him but I also have the unpredictable and devastating impact of complex PTSD to contend with.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">It’s hard not to be transported back to my silent empty side room off a packed and bustling labour ward on 5th November 2009. The new mother of a </span><a href="https://www.sands.org.uk/about-sands" id="id_10c9_a559_fc3_ffe7" target="_blank">baby angel</a><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> quietly weeping while the aftershocks of a traumatic labour and emergency surgery wracked my body. Never had I been so alone with my thoughts. </span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">And once the Pandora’s box of emotional and physical flashback triggers has been opened, there is no knowing or expressing how I feel.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><img id="id_650b_9332_2afa_706" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-TDxgB87J-vM/XDEOTq5oRJI/AAAAAAAAQBM/z11EnrOFzC4mqLWeJXHF7n8L5Lwl_y6zACHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 298px; height: auto;"><br><br><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); margin: 0px; padding: 0px; border: 0px; font-style: italic; font-stretch: inherit; line-height: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: none;"><b style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; border: 0px; font-style: inherit; font-variant-caps: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; line-height: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: none;">Pandora </b></span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">1896 painting by </span><a href="https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_William_Waterhouse" title="John William Waterhouse" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); margin: 0px; padding: 0px; border: 0px; font-stretch: inherit; line-height: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: none; text-decoration: none;">John William Waterhouse</a></div></div> </div><br>Susie Basshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07046166398632226398noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9189716414328540312.post-44644011958742064562017-10-15T11:35:00.001-07:002021-09-11T04:48:22.418-07:00Sunday Snapshots At last, things are starting to get a little bit easier and I can start getting on with the whole living thing.<div><br /></div><div><img alt="" id="id_ad6f_bee1_4276_cde5" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-0Fh056kwa8c/WeOqZMJpYAI/AAAAAAAAOKY/a7Fp6HSbqpYZpoSe0FyOnNKnTM6b7RPKQCHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" style="height: auto; width: 298px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br /><br /></div><div>After the overly complex stitchery I started on one of the flowers for my embroidered dress at the beginning of the week, it felt like I would never get it either right or finished. My mood darkened, but I kept at it and then suddenly it was finished.</div><div><br /></div><div><img alt="" id="id_171c_5db7_13f2_5fcd" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-3JYI2w9w8xU/WeOqYxk7i9I/AAAAAAAAOKU/HatyqioU2Fkvf9gGmXOW8J4_AaaZys58wCHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" style="height: auto; width: 298px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br /><br /></div><div>The kitchen is no longer the sensory nightmare of the last couple of months, as long as I am the only one in there. I even managed to gather a harvest from the allotment and make a potato curry with my homegrown produce.</div><div><br /></div><div><img alt="" id="id_59fb_7c85_349b_e5ba" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-0K60C91QUYU/WeOqYz2QEPI/AAAAAAAAOKQ/xr68VYgBRzMHTVlIahNZscT1VG7E0F84wCHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" style="height: auto; width: 298px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br /><br /></div><div>I’ve also managed to not only go properly outside but took on my own autistic/ PTSD challenge. In true over the top ADHD style, I went on a day trip to The Knitting and Stitching Show at Alexandra Palace, the perfect overwhelmingly stimulating environment to anxiously await the boy’s Kent Test results.</div><div><br /></div><div><img alt="" id="id_25a6_77af_e10c_abc4" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-G683KoHLio8/WeOqZqM2pRI/AAAAAAAAOKc/SLUIyDvpGpQkKjMXC0nGjioCMM8_BbWmACHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" style="height: auto; width: 298px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br /><br /></div><div>If I can cope with needle-felted Sherlocks, then I can probably start to engage in some of those day to day activities that have been causing me such distress.</div><div><br /></div><img alt="" id="id_3080_e474_afb6_242f" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-dDG_8973q30/WeOqbCWEbOI/AAAAAAAAOKg/Qdz3Rh4ndnUv6s8fe-W6kVR487tnsobFgCHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" style="height: auto; width: 298px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br /><div> </div><div>This charming set of characters is from the book The Natural World of Needle felting </div><a href="https://www.waterstones.com/book/the-natural-world-of-needle-felting/fi-oberon/9781910254585" id="id_877f_d9ed_2ed6_d6c3">The Natural World of Needle felting </a> (more on the show to follow in another blog post).<div><br /></div><div><img alt="" id="id_8f5e_dff3_2840_a63f" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-bU4l278VXg0/WeOqb6BmeoI/AAAAAAAAOKk/6IoSiONk6egLsxfQ51DK-mmN9u2g4JeQwCHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" style="height: auto; width: 298px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br /><br /></div><div>Inspired and motivated following my mum school trip, I finally got around to starting my next Ridgeway Cottage Treasures project with a bit of Lino cutting.</div><div><br /></div><div><img alt="" id="id_2ee7_613e_7f58_2916" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-LxiVRibCAfo/WeOqejiyIlI/AAAAAAAAOK0/hOomNyYnJIkw4Zu03f_yFKjqt9cJx8L4ACHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" style="height: auto; width: 298px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br /><br /></div><div>Close supervision curtesy of the real life Sherlock who as ever brought a ball to the party incase I fancied a break. </div><div><br /></div><div><img alt="" id="id_35a7_e489_e365_41b1" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-MqHWK6SBj6c/WeOqdiSRYcI/AAAAAAAAOKs/hS82zQWG0d8ZkvT3JHzLm_K6xtyBuKVRQCHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" style="height: auto; width: 298px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br /><br /></div><div>Although I found the “surprise we are early ”invasion from the plumbers completely rattled my box of neatly packed PTSD symptoms and tipped them out all over the floor, it wasn’t the end of the world. Yes they arrived 3 days early and then not only ignored the request to phone before they came but also arrived 3 hours before the allotted slot. And yes they shook the foundations of the house with their pneumatic drill when they made a massive hole into the house. And also if that drill didn’t overload my autistic ears enough, they used a circular saw to cut my original Victorian floorboards. However when you’ve got a leak under your house, this is how it’s fixed and so we went out to the beach. As is now traditional, we had chips at the beach for lunch. It is always lovely surprise to get your chips served in the same bowl your grandmother used.</div><div><br /></div><div><img alt="" id="id_9de8_44a_bce0_ec95" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-jKK8eA7Uw7w/WeOqc2z-C5I/AAAAAAAAOKo/DRHPru75LaMoo0P3s73h6YXurkYTv5YuACHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" style="height: auto; width: 298px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br /><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>And then the mid October sun came out and life didn’t seem so bad at all.</div><div><br /></div><div><img alt="" id="id_8cbb_a92e_c135_423a" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-8gVC79eZWaw/WeOqePQz_aI/AAAAAAAAOKw/OJfGH-8FO40AtA1IHKt3sbk7wBYc7NUAQCHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" style="height: auto; width: 298px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br /><br /></div><div>The temperature started to sore back into the twenties but with a special golden autumn warmth.</div><div><br /></div><div><img alt="" id="id_34f1_46db_ce2b_b5f3" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-NRnKPcLckGM/WeOqe8ovD8I/AAAAAAAAOK4/r1EBJj6VmQccarhWOWNwTNA1tqOmy3SpACHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" style="height: auto; width: 298px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br /><br /></div><div>And it most definitely was warm enough for a paddle in the sea.</div>Susie Basshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07046166398632226398noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9189716414328540312.post-54265605012716842292017-10-08T12:30:00.001-07:002017-10-08T12:30:36.188-07:00Sunday Snapshots <p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; font-family: ".SF UI Text"; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><img id="id_86b3_53df_6af3_dcbc" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-yvhER5lS4RY/Wdp8zu77JrI/AAAAAAAAOHw/5_ET85f1kPIgj6xJuA-KhbgQ1Ivc8HTBgCHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 298px; height: auto;"><br><span style="font-family: ".SFUIText"; font-size: 17pt;"><br></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; font-family: ".SF UI Text"; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: ".SFUIText"; font-size: 17pt;"><br></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; font-family: ".SF UI Text"; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: ".SFUIText"; font-size: 17pt;">This week has been difficult because I had a migraine. There is nothing more grounding than not being able to stand up or sip water without being sick. Strangely though, this I have felt less lost in my own world and there were times, when the headache shifted slightly, that I felt moments of real clarity. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; font-family: ".SF UI Text"; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px;"><span style="font-family: ".SFUIText"; font-size: 17pt;"></span><br></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; font-family: ".SF UI Text"; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px;"><img id="id_ca60_4efb_7c1f_2a61" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-nwVBfnl7Yhg/Wdp80xecMXI/AAAAAAAAOH0/Cqq14TgJD8YmQ0PRfRFZTumfZCxruKyTACHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 298px; height: auto;"><br><br></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; font-family: ".SF UI Text"; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: ".SFUIText"; font-size: 17pt;">The weather is still pleasant and the light lasts long enough for us to fit in up to three walks a day for Sherlock, although on some days I have been barely able to manage one. Being lost in my thoughts of the woods, the colours of the autumnal leaves and the crunch of acorns under foot, has been preferable to the psychological trauma associated with PTSD.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; font-family: ".SF UI Text"; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: ".SFUIText"; font-size: 17pt;"><br></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; font-family: ".SF UI Text"; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><img id="id_ade8_f1a8_2944_1eba" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-4mxiT9JZPo4/Wdp82lRR7HI/AAAAAAAAOIA/jQFp3eGZWQghW7LMR8gL1JoyS0aS_pRPwCHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 298px; height: auto;"><br><span style="font-family: ".SFUIText"; font-size: 17pt;"><br></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; font-family: ".SF UI Text"; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: ".SFUIText"; font-size: 17pt;">Sherlock, as always, has taken his role of family pet very seriously and even when he’s not been sure of what he’s supposed to be doing, he has shown true collie commitment.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; font-family: ".SF UI Text"; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: ".SFUIText"; font-size: 17pt;"><br></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; font-family: ".SF UI Text"; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><img id="id_4ee2_ef83_5250_fea3" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-p9DRa6UDjqs/Wdp82NQ43NI/AAAAAAAAOH8/LC-HKQ2ngyo2iRDObXr2hUxCvAy0e9zsACHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 298px; height: auto;"><br><span style="font-family: ".SFUIText"; font-size: 17pt;"><br></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; font-family: ".SF UI Text"; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: ".SFUIText"; font-size: 17pt;">Actually both pets have been showcasing their characters this week. Herbie is adamant that the weather is warm enough to remain outside and has moaned about a chill in the air from the garden side of the cat flap.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; font-family: ".SF UI Text"; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: ".SFUIText"; font-size: 17pt;"><br></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; font-family: ".SF UI Text"; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><img id="id_a421_1a7f_757a_bc94" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-4AYVqhJrQUQ/Wdp81w2q4cI/AAAAAAAAOH4/ZQHoXzr9sXIf1_M2I3UaKpdwwVTDb3ELACHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 298px; height: auto;"><br><span style="font-family: ".SFUIText"; font-size: 17pt;"><br></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; font-family: ".SF UI Text"; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: ".SFUIText"; font-size: 17pt;">And finally the aspect that has been most surprising for me is that no matter how awful you feel and how heavily issues weigh on your mind, it’s worth getting out there because you never know what you might find. It was a real effort this morning because I felt so sick and my head hurt, but there on the corner of the woods, was this little fellow. Sherlock wasn’t convinced but I was pleased to see a horse waiting patiently for adventurers to happen upon him.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; font-family: ".SF UI Text"; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: ".SFUIText"; font-size: 17pt;"><br></span></p>Susie Basshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07046166398632226398noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9189716414328540312.post-2999238494091532122017-10-01T22:32:00.001-07:002017-10-01T22:40:23.759-07:00Sunday SnapshotsI’ve had quite a lot to reflect on this week. Being given a diagnosis of post traumatic stress disorder on Tuesday has helped me to identify why I’m currently unable to live an ordinary life. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-RgoLUm3I8Gs/WdHPS8sCZ8I/AAAAAAAAOFc/O0Aj3_qfYscEeXnEj6uSFwq_LIoLI1tRACHMYCw/s288/iphone_photo.jpg'><img src='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-RgoLUm3I8Gs/WdHPS8sCZ8I/AAAAAAAAOFc/O0Aj3_qfYscEeXnEj6uSFwq_LIoLI1tRACHMYCw/s288/iphone_photo.jpg' border='0' width='1600' height='1600' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />My tiny house in which to keep unwanted thoughts that I can now label as PSTD.<br /><br />Anyone who has ever spent more than 24 hours with me, will know that one of the last I’m the last to fall asleep and the first to wake up. I challenge anyone to ever say “oh yes Susie’s your typical three meals a day girl.” If you have even seen me eat, you will probably not be surprised to hear it is out of politeness and the only people, other than my husband, to ever hear me say “I’m hungry” are direct blood relatives. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-7Auf4IwoGJs/WdHPUDuMsbI/AAAAAAAAOFg/AkDp7dQyGasjL92O2W8ShjWL8TQg0uKUQCHMYCw/s288/iphone_photo.jpg'><img src='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-7Auf4IwoGJs/WdHPUDuMsbI/AAAAAAAAOFg/AkDp7dQyGasjL92O2W8ShjWL8TQg0uKUQCHMYCw/s288/iphone_photo.jpg' border='0' width='1600' height='1600' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />This is the new dog friendly cafe at Westgate on Sea for when you’ve walked the dog in the rain. Everyone knows I have my coffee black and strong. I don’t like milk (it’s for baby cows) and it’s unlikely that I’ve had enough sleep.<br /><br />I started to suspect things were not as the should be a while ago but once I stopped sleeping for more than 2 hours and had to force myself eat, I knew that blocking the thoughts from my mind was not going to be enough. However it does seem that for small pockets of time, I can put that life aside and live in a world with snapshots of hope.<br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-X1u6HMXKzjo/WdHPVcc-8xI/AAAAAAAAOFk/twHR0ZpjT74gMMKZwb6q23qdHRfwkU3TwCHMYCw/s288/iphone_photo.jpg'><img src='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-X1u6HMXKzjo/WdHPVcc-8xI/AAAAAAAAOFk/twHR0ZpjT74gMMKZwb6q23qdHRfwkU3TwCHMYCw/s288/iphone_photo.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='280' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br />Yesterday we saw a seal swimming off the cost of Margate.<br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-eyyVFyhtYms/WdHPWkdj_wI/AAAAAAAAOFo/xZqjxmWj-ccMDMOZ_hPPkX24WuBD4TeqQCHMYCw/s288/iphone_photo.jpg'><img src='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-eyyVFyhtYms/WdHPWkdj_wI/AAAAAAAAOFo/xZqjxmWj-ccMDMOZ_hPPkX24WuBD4TeqQCHMYCw/s288/iphone_photo.jpg' border='0' width='1600' height='1600' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br />It’s now October which means the summer dog ban on the beaches of Kent is over leaving Sherlock free to run wherever he wants. <br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-9qvZCp8bV7g/WdHPXj8K7hI/AAAAAAAAOFs/9EgFSWrzGeQTNqtjYkC4Nn2x1h-v-VQPwCHMYCw/s288/iphone_photo.jpg'><img src='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-9qvZCp8bV7g/WdHPXj8K7hI/AAAAAAAAOFs/9EgFSWrzGeQTNqtjYkC4Nn2x1h-v-VQPwCHMYCw/s288/iphone_photo.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='280' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br />I also made a new dog walking friend outside the Sea Hospital luxury flat development. I told him all about my dream to open a independent school at Dreamland to engage the disengaged and teach them that dreams are achievable. He starts his new job at Dreamland in 2 weeks.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-a7M3HqO6E4I/WdHPYwgOFhI/AAAAAAAAOFw/8FaW8Eki5K4EHf7dj5CPoRw1wqZXLtq2gCHMYCw/s288/iphone_photo.jpg'><img src='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-a7M3HqO6E4I/WdHPYwgOFhI/AAAAAAAAOFw/8FaW8Eki5K4EHf7dj5CPoRw1wqZXLtq2gCHMYCw/s288/iphone_photo.jpg' border='0' width='1600' height='1600' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />And I went out for lunch with Josie and had pizza, although we did bring most of it home and eat it cold later. I gave some to Charlie and Josie is taking the rest for lunch.<br /><br />Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone<br /><br />Susie Basshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07046166398632226398noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9189716414328540312.post-76640748066820475312017-09-18T07:39:00.001-07:002017-09-18T07:39:56.455-07:00Flowers on Friday on MondayAt the start of August my world was turned upside down and it wasn't the learning to do a handstand Cody programme. I had three things on my summer bucket list this year. <br /><br />1. Gardening<br />2. Yoga - handstands and mermaid pose especially <br />3. Design a tattoo<br /><br />As we approached the summer holidays, I was so excited. This was my year, I'd put in the ground work and the kids were big enough not to need me to be the queen of summer holiday entertainment. Then I got a phone call and my life became a run away train and I am still trying to get off because it keeps whizzing past stuff I want to look at.<br /><br />So I'm not saving anything for best anymore. I'll be wearing sequins and wellies to Sainsbury's, I've got my own Susie version of the double man bun and do you know what?... I am going to do Flowers on Friday on Monday. Hold on to you handbags, I'm going to be living my life on the shed roof.<br /> <br /><br /><center><a href='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-wd1SdD2z1VU/Wb_al13ZjGI/AAAAAAAAODo/wR_09aaTpv8wGQ5GzJbcyqTE8xK8DsfIgCHMYCw/s288/iphone_photo.jpg'><img src='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-wd1SdD2z1VU/Wb_al13ZjGI/AAAAAAAAODo/wR_09aaTpv8wGQ5GzJbcyqTE8xK8DsfIgCHMYCw/s288/iphone_photo.jpg' border='0' width='1600' height='1600' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /> <br />This is the second flush for the campanula. It was here in the spring and back for Autumn, a second chance and another turn for this little corner of purple.<br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-NOP9b9_ZJoo/Wb_anRSiaII/AAAAAAAAODs/seUzex66ohMguAbuWtQAZat5QdlwmxYxwCHMYCw/s288/iphone_photo.jpg'><img src='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-NOP9b9_ZJoo/Wb_anRSiaII/AAAAAAAAODs/seUzex66ohMguAbuWtQAZat5QdlwmxYxwCHMYCw/s288/iphone_photo.jpg' border='0' width='1600' height='1600' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /> <br />Best friends forever, nasturtiums and tomatoes. I do love orange, and how it is often forgotten or left out of the favourite colours world.<br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-LBhi8NebMfw/Wb_aopPBrDI/AAAAAAAAODw/PA3DB4mAJ74gCmMK1m-h271DeLnOMSvqwCHMYCw/s288/iphone_photo.jpg'><img src='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-LBhi8NebMfw/Wb_aopPBrDI/AAAAAAAAODw/PA3DB4mAJ74gCmMK1m-h271DeLnOMSvqwCHMYCw/s288/iphone_photo.jpg' border='0' width='1600' height='1600' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />Holding onto the sun, staying gold and reliably my favourite, dahlia Karma Corona. Sometimes it hard to have faith but I always believe in Karma. <br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-oZaZHgSJ1l8/Wb_ap4fXlLI/AAAAAAAAOD0/1PUNS6c1b2kyb3HkiJ6lsbiP7Ycn8f0ngCHMYCw/s288/iphone_photo.jpg'><img src='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-oZaZHgSJ1l8/Wb_ap4fXlLI/AAAAAAAAOD0/1PUNS6c1b2kyb3HkiJ6lsbiP7Ycn8f0ngCHMYCw/s288/iphone_photo.jpg' border='0' width='1600' height='1600' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /> <br /><br />In memory of my time as the president of The Pink Ladies WI, dahlia 1466. We don't care that you are just a number. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-EubnL_QLBl0/Wb_arA-mf1I/AAAAAAAAOD4/J4t0stFNzOM_APIX7-i4pJiH3vHDxwmzwCHMYCw/s288/iphone_photo.jpg'><img src='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-EubnL_QLBl0/Wb_arA-mf1I/AAAAAAAAOD4/J4t0stFNzOM_APIX7-i4pJiH3vHDxwmzwCHMYCw/s288/iphone_photo.jpg' border='0' width='1600' height='1600' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /> <br />Dahlias, you are all my favourites<br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-f85o6HpM6yM/Wb_asLXtd7I/AAAAAAAAOD8/wIp7VSOlgoUd61grHCOIWVBoLOkCZ7IIwCHMYCw/s288/iphone_photo.jpg'><img src='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-f85o6HpM6yM/Wb_asLXtd7I/AAAAAAAAOD8/wIp7VSOlgoUd61grHCOIWVBoLOkCZ7IIwCHMYCw/s288/iphone_photo.jpg' border='0' width='1600' height='1600' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />And you too marigolds.<br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-NVdj6NGU4vs/Wb_atoDL6cI/AAAAAAAAOEA/Tlw7bXOoJgYd8-iHxmC_ssLzmrM6DGNjgCHMYCw/s288/iphone_photo.jpg'><img src='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-NVdj6NGU4vs/Wb_atoDL6cI/AAAAAAAAOEA/Tlw7bXOoJgYd8-iHxmC_ssLzmrM6DGNjgCHMYCw/s288/iphone_photo.jpg' border='0' width='1600' height='1600' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /> <br /><br />There is always the sun, even when it's covered by clouds. There are always sunflowers in my garden even if they are the seeds waiting to be next year's sun or be nibbled by winter hungry birds or mice.<br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-zYCoNPydXTE/Wb_au8OTQaI/AAAAAAAAOEE/IvrLM_l_htggpu6aLLY3O7_8XCky7q2wgCHMYCw/s288/iphone_photo.jpg'><img src='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-zYCoNPydXTE/Wb_au8OTQaI/AAAAAAAAOEE/IvrLM_l_htggpu6aLLY3O7_8XCky7q2wgCHMYCw/s288/iphone_photo.jpg' border='0' width='1600' height='1600' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />And finally a random flower planted by a generous bird or possibly me or it could even be a result of one of the boy's science experiments. Everyone's welcome in my garden.<br /><br />Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone<br />Susie Basshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07046166398632226398noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9189716414328540312.post-12446724300282670972017-08-28T23:49:00.002-07:002017-08-28T23:49:38.588-07:00Late Bank Holiday Monday<br />
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When the early morning mist roll in, despite being burnt off by the sunshine later, there is no denying that my lizard baking days are numbered and it's time to go back to work.<br />
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But for one last day, I can potter around my garden with care free abandon, dead heading the dahlias, collecting seeds and ignoring the various kid related plastic debris that always accumulates in the summer holiday's. To quote Mountain from <a href="https://youtu.be/S_EuNmQOpbw" target="_blank">The Soda stream Shame advert</a>,<br />
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🐬 🐬 🐬 "Can't you hear the dolphins crying" 🐬 🐬 🐬</div>
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For short bursts of time I can remain motionless, totally absorbed in the moment before my recently diagnosed ADHD powers cause an explosion of ideas firing at 1,000,000 miles per hour simultaneous.<br />
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Most of August has been highjacked by my diagnosis of ASD. My senses were sent haywire by sensitivity to the medication I was given and I couldn't even go in my own garden. It rained in my garden and in my heart.<br />
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However no matter what happens in the chaos of my mind and the garden carries on as it should. <br />
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So here we are, flowers on late Bank Holiday Monday.<br />
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If only you could really capture the smell of fresh roses warmed by the rays of the sun</center>
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Dahlia " Karma Corona"</center>
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Name to be added if I can find the plant label or if I remember to</center>
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England Dahlia for boys. The boys accidently knocked this over whilst creating a slow worm habitat and my boy asked me to put on the table so he can see it while he has his breakfast.</center>
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Who doesn't love an everlasting sweet pea?</center>
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These marigolds have been the greatest success in my garden this year, they are all over the place. Message me if you would like seeds, I have plenty to share.</center>
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The prettiest weeds around. Easy to grow, edible and if any child wants to pick flowers in my garden they can pick as many as they like</center>
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Once again name to be added if I can find the plant label or if I remember to</center>
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<br />Susie Basshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07046166398632226398noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9189716414328540312.post-17767290050411179152017-07-07T06:31:00.001-07:002017-07-07T06:31:51.624-07:00Flowers on Friday <br /><br /><center><a href='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-MeHQM4vhVWs/WV-MxAzFvwI/AAAAAAAAN8U/2qX5Ogh2AigMLM5G_7_JjyCF0pbRBfq0QCHMYCw/s288/iphone_photo.jpg'><img src='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-MeHQM4vhVWs/WV-MxAzFvwI/AAAAAAAAN8U/2qX5Ogh2AigMLM5G_7_JjyCF0pbRBfq0QCHMYCw/s288/iphone_photo.jpg' border='0' width='1600' height='1600' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br />It's warm in the garden today. The grass has browned and the pavement is too hot to walk on bare foot, but I love it.<br /><br /><center><a href='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-m2zN4MTIJFk/WV-MzmnqaeI/AAAAAAAAN8Y/HKR9P0FmFt8gnPXxohsWkWkDr9M8wMP6ACHMYCw/s288/iphone_photo.jpg'><img src='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-m2zN4MTIJFk/WV-MzmnqaeI/AAAAAAAAN8Y/HKR9P0FmFt8gnPXxohsWkWkDr9M8wMP6ACHMYCw/s288/iphone_photo.jpg' border='0' width='1600' height='1600' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />There's a second flush of roses<br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-02LbQxljykw/WV-M38x2WQI/AAAAAAAAN8c/6VeLVkfWBX8EmGaT3RKO3CdRrLOrTExeACHMYCw/s288/iphone_photo.jpg'><img src='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-02LbQxljykw/WV-M38x2WQI/AAAAAAAAN8c/6VeLVkfWBX8EmGaT3RKO3CdRrLOrTExeACHMYCw/s288/iphone_photo.jpg' border='0' width='1600' height='1600' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />Flowers in the jam pan succulent mini garden<br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-q83q8WcpfnU/WV-M8CFbdRI/AAAAAAAAN8g/5UoeoZ7KAtAQXXUyl5LvMaNLELN2WlPNgCHMYCw/s288/iphone_photo.jpg'><img src='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-q83q8WcpfnU/WV-M8CFbdRI/AAAAAAAAN8g/5UoeoZ7KAtAQXXUyl5LvMaNLELN2WlPNgCHMYCw/s288/iphone_photo.jpg' border='0' width='1600' height='1600' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br />Hollyhocks reaching the skies<br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-BI9NJUYh1ro/WV-NB3jMDsI/AAAAAAAAN8k/mj6zL4CEr4sX45hOfnYxIDEcI99I34yZgCHMYCw/s288/iphone_photo.jpg'><img src='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-BI9NJUYh1ro/WV-NB3jMDsI/AAAAAAAAN8k/mj6zL4CEr4sX45hOfnYxIDEcI99I34yZgCHMYCw/s288/iphone_photo.jpg' border='0' width='1600' height='1600' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />Dahlias a plenty<br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-3mgKTzt5zVU/WV-NG1SYQBI/AAAAAAAAN8o/ItCGBZPZ7gIXZVIHrr2mnFzRYRUIawV7wCHMYCw/s288/iphone_photo.jpg'><img src='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-3mgKTzt5zVU/WV-NG1SYQBI/AAAAAAAAN8o/ItCGBZPZ7gIXZVIHrr2mnFzRYRUIawV7wCHMYCw/s288/iphone_photo.jpg' border='0' width='1600' height='1600' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />Sweet peas climbing the sunflowers <br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-cFNY34rnxU4/WV-NKil7f8I/AAAAAAAAN8s/LQqo2AmFSJcvyM1HdSe6fknYT-evANvzgCHMYCw/s288/iphone_photo.jpg'><img src='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-cFNY34rnxU4/WV-NKil7f8I/AAAAAAAAN8s/LQqo2AmFSJcvyM1HdSe6fknYT-evANvzgCHMYCw/s288/iphone_photo.jpg' border='0' width='1600' height='1600' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />Marigolds grown from seed<br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-juzwBkyRiB4/WV-NNQHxYzI/AAAAAAAAN8w/OUETDBoGkIcEBzBZ9kW3Dt8L1mlF0-llACHMYCw/s288/iphone_photo.jpg'><img src='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-juzwBkyRiB4/WV-NNQHxYzI/AAAAAAAAN8w/OUETDBoGkIcEBzBZ9kW3Dt8L1mlF0-llACHMYCw/s288/iphone_photo.jpg' border='0' width='1600' height='1600' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />Fiery red nasturtiums<br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-al5ThZPIQ_8/WV-NRrQMpjI/AAAAAAAAN80/uW1DtvQnkKg9w0SAq4t7qFHvv8RbggGUQCHMYCw/s288/iphone_photo.jpg'><img src='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-al5ThZPIQ_8/WV-NRrQMpjI/AAAAAAAAN80/uW1DtvQnkKg9w0SAq4t7qFHvv8RbggGUQCHMYCw/s288/iphone_photo.jpg' border='0' width='1600' height='1600' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />Happy Friday everyone <br />Susie Basshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07046166398632226398noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9189716414328540312.post-66344404188512346922017-06-02T23:02:00.001-07:002017-06-05T21:13:55.652-07:00FlowersThe transition from May to June sees a shift in the garden.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-oRCUFgpmlVA/WTJQ0hZAUNI/AAAAAAAAN7E/ZJDE9ItjOm0tmErKNpOjSG06vr5sAst-QCHM/s288/iphone_photo.jpg'><img src='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-oRCUFgpmlVA/WTJQ0hZAUNI/AAAAAAAAN7E/ZJDE9ItjOm0tmErKNpOjSG06vr5sAst-QCHM/s288/iphone_photo.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='280' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br />The nigella are smaller and daintier with the larger blooms going to seed.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-o39pWZvn8N4/WTJQ23dAQCI/AAAAAAAAN7I/rliWCxRzeMsZvCiaxaSFHgeZxmK54fu_gCHM/s288/iphone_photo.jpg'><img src='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-o39pWZvn8N4/WTJQ23dAQCI/AAAAAAAAN7I/rliWCxRzeMsZvCiaxaSFHgeZxmK54fu_gCHM/s288/iphone_photo.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='280' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br />Some of the roses are beginning to fade and drop their petals which are being dried for bath bombs. The purple sprouting broccoli is a mass of yellow flowers, frequented by bees.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-n8SwFPN8wog/WTJQ5LLQ4RI/AAAAAAAAN7M/AYoZY-KpF9AW_xC4vd-2AGk0Bi5lBp14ACHM/s288/iphone_photo.jpg'><img src='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-n8SwFPN8wog/WTJQ5LLQ4RI/AAAAAAAAN7M/AYoZY-KpF9AW_xC4vd-2AGk0Bi5lBp14ACHM/s288/iphone_photo.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='280' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br />Although the majority of my fox gloves are pink and purple, this white one has appeared in the shady area.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-McHA-4BbEeI/WTJhT8SBHfI/AAAAAAAAN7Y/Z0C9DupjvFEeUtUO3PqHHCrTAfzCUp7TgCHM/s288/iphone_photo.jpg'><img src='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-McHA-4BbEeI/WTJhT8SBHfI/AAAAAAAAN7Y/Z0C9DupjvFEeUtUO3PqHHCrTAfzCUp7TgCHM/s288/iphone_photo.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='280' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br />Foxgloves, helichrysums and lychnis are flowering in Zoe's corner.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-8NaRJYIo11c/WTJhW45iLjI/AAAAAAAAN7c/VlacFSn_ggwitnozTcx7OKhs7KaE25lNQCHM/s288/iphone_photo.jpg'><img src='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-8NaRJYIo11c/WTJhW45iLjI/AAAAAAAAN7c/VlacFSn_ggwitnozTcx7OKhs7KaE25lNQCHM/s288/iphone_photo.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='280' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /> <br />There is a riot of colour by the back door.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-g5CsnPiZys8/WTJhZFqWWrI/AAAAAAAAN7g/bqDsvgvE3UUQtg4s2gx9ZQ76r8S2c3NgACHM/s288/iphone_photo.jpg'><img src='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-g5CsnPiZys8/WTJhZFqWWrI/AAAAAAAAN7g/bqDsvgvE3UUQtg4s2gx9ZQ76r8S2c3NgACHM/s288/iphone_photo.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='280' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br />The peas are in <br /><br />Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone<br /><br />Susie Basshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07046166398632226398noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9189716414328540312.post-30920197594047518562017-05-26T05:23:00.001-07:002017-05-26T22:29:22.776-07:00Flowers on Friday <br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-V070Si7mj6s/WSgd_76cGpI/AAAAAAAAN5Y/w_j1oEMgg0A5-XmopN9OhyJN9gCkCOycACHM/s288/iphone_photo.jpg'><img src='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-V070Si7mj6s/WSgd_76cGpI/AAAAAAAAN5Y/w_j1oEMgg0A5-XmopN9OhyJN9gCkCOycACHM/s288/iphone_photo.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='280' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />So far I believe this to be my favourite gardening week this year. The sun is warm, the skies are blue, the swifts have returned and there are daily highlights of The Chelsea Flower Show on every day. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-W0-Sllp3Zf4/WSgeBgS02SI/AAAAAAAAN5c/2aLvsxejWT09WIfwV6ieg_Xynm_jJsEywCHM/s288/iphone_photo.jpg'><img src='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-W0-Sllp3Zf4/WSgeBgS02SI/AAAAAAAAN5c/2aLvsxejWT09WIfwV6ieg_Xynm_jJsEywCHM/s288/iphone_photo.jpg' border='0' width='1600' height='1600' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />It has taken two years from collected seed to flower for my lychnis plants. For the longest time I wondered what these deep magenta flowers were on the end of tall silver stems. Now the front and back garden as well as the allotment are about to be filled them. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-7OUcizhUMTE/WSgeDYKB6lI/AAAAAAAAN5g/6BLJ5UJjt6Qf4Pic1XM0q8G2e5ro50rmACHM/s288/iphone_photo.jpg'><img src='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-7OUcizhUMTE/WSgeDYKB6lI/AAAAAAAAN5g/6BLJ5UJjt6Qf4Pic1XM0q8G2e5ro50rmACHM/s288/iphone_photo.jpg' border='0' width='1600' height='1600' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /> <br />I also grew these from seed the same year but this is their second time flowering. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-1GeF9EdqyHk/WSgeEw9IvLI/AAAAAAAAN5k/z0nKjMigKZcQhGWLG2i6SMnBvVLyZUqWwCHM/s288/iphone_photo.jpg'><img src='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-1GeF9EdqyHk/WSgeEw9IvLI/AAAAAAAAN5k/z0nKjMigKZcQhGWLG2i6SMnBvVLyZUqWwCHM/s288/iphone_photo.jpg' border='0' width='1600' height='1600' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br />I found an old packet of Baby Blue Eyes in the spring and threw them in a bare patch. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-QaPFQYqx4M4/WSgeHYnC_jI/AAAAAAAAN5o/qWa52rqJ2nU8YvlofM3EG8ZKFkDDiDHRgCHM/s288/iphone_photo.jpg'><img src='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-QaPFQYqx4M4/WSgeHYnC_jI/AAAAAAAAN5o/qWa52rqJ2nU8YvlofM3EG8ZKFkDDiDHRgCHM/s288/iphone_photo.jpg' border='0' width='1600' height='1600' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br />The forget-me-nots are hanging on in there, just<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-37LbcSMnjCY/WSgeJYgetEI/AAAAAAAAN5s/23dzyv773swUqidrpkWskvK3av-BdKmlACHM/s288/iphone_photo.jpg'><img src='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-37LbcSMnjCY/WSgeJYgetEI/AAAAAAAAN5s/23dzyv773swUqidrpkWskvK3av-BdKmlACHM/s288/iphone_photo.jpg' border='0' width='1600' height='1600' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /> <br />And the old fashioned pinks are in bud. They also took a couple of years to get started, but I think this will be their year to shine.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-gsJy2oMAgNQ/WSgeLMxf5RI/AAAAAAAAN5w/o_fgWNBKFaohy01VahqpVMSGyNSCi36zgCHM/s288/iphone_photo.jpg'><img src='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-gsJy2oMAgNQ/WSgeLMxf5RI/AAAAAAAAN5w/o_fgWNBKFaohy01VahqpVMSGyNSCi36zgCHM/s288/iphone_photo.jpg' border='0' width='1600' height='1600' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br />In the dappled shade of the corkscrew hazel, the wild strawberries are in flower so it is probably almost time to invite Nana to stay. Charlie and Nana do like their berries from the garden / allotment on pancakes. Perhaps she'll share the joy of the summer fair, I've only got two more to survive. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Bj7vu8nK9x4/WSgeM4W5OLI/AAAAAAAAN50/YlTFHLxDN-IM2ujlgMJ8o086KPPFWtgJACHM/s288/iphone_photo.jpg'><img src='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Bj7vu8nK9x4/WSgeM4W5OLI/AAAAAAAAN50/YlTFHLxDN-IM2ujlgMJ8o086KPPFWtgJACHM/s288/iphone_photo.jpg' border='0' width='1600' height='1600' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br />When we first moved here, I was so sad to leave my abundance of naturalised nigella plants. I missed them at first but I followed my tried and tested technique of 'save the seed, chuck it everywhere' and they are popping up all over the place, <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-s4FDTaJwjqE/WSgeO8ho4sI/AAAAAAAAN54/Y6x-QmNCGsIPAtT895V7d39Ik8lNgIWwACHM/s288/iphone_photo.jpg'><img src='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-s4FDTaJwjqE/WSgeO8ho4sI/AAAAAAAAN54/Y6x-QmNCGsIPAtT895V7d39Ik8lNgIWwACHM/s288/iphone_photo.jpg' border='0' width='1600' height='1600' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />Even between the cracks in the pavement,<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-clUBV6_IMM4/WSgeRJiS7iI/AAAAAAAAN58/P2rlrzsdzFoYG8WfHHKxAYStOV3u4pTXQCHM/s288/iphone_photo.jpg'><img src='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-clUBV6_IMM4/WSgeRJiS7iI/AAAAAAAAN58/P2rlrzsdzFoYG8WfHHKxAYStOV3u4pTXQCHM/s288/iphone_photo.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='280' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />Finally as a tribute to the great pavilion, my delphiniums.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-xxoW03KMKUQ/WSgeTCFQHEI/AAAAAAAAN6A/e8HwW89pAtIS1NsjvypgKfgMaaIKwVmKACHM/s288/0.jpg'><img src='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-xxoW03KMKUQ/WSgeTCFQHEI/AAAAAAAAN6A/e8HwW89pAtIS1NsjvypgKfgMaaIKwVmKACHM/s288/0.jpg' border='0' width='750' height='750' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-W6JvGg630Lg/WSkOsYj1VHI/AAAAAAAAN6g/VnXFT0l-lRQ3UYIx_fBxsYxi9Jy-gzY4QCHM/s288/0.jpg'><img src='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-W6JvGg630Lg/WSkOsYj1VHI/AAAAAAAAN6g/VnXFT0l-lRQ3UYIx_fBxsYxi9Jy-gzY4QCHM/s288/0.jpg' border='0' width='750' height='750' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />Susie Basshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07046166398632226398noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9189716414328540312.post-82166653926329840532017-03-16T13:13:00.001-07:002017-03-16T13:13:31.395-07:00Allotment crumble<br />As the days of early 2017 slip past, spring is creeping into my world. Hello buds and shoots and re-emerging plants. It's time to create a new allotment dish with all the edibles busting into life.<br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-GjwkW4Gz-hA/WMrxj-MvclI/AAAAAAAANzg/Rkhzl23qtoY/s288/iphone_photo.jpg'><img src='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-GjwkW4Gz-hA/WMrxj-MvclI/AAAAAAAANzg/Rkhzl23qtoY/s288/iphone_photo.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='280' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /> <br />Allotment Crumble<br /><br />Ingredients<br /><br />Leeks<br />Spring greens <br />Nettles<br /><br />Cheese sauce<br />25g butter<br />25g flour<br />1/2 pint milk<br />Some cheese<br /><br />The crumble topping<br />Flour<br />Butter<br />Seeds<br />Oats<br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-s-k-v5o77r0/WMrxmjQLt_I/AAAAAAAANzk/usAqBSx6Mh4/s288/iphone_photo.jpg'><img src='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-s-k-v5o77r0/WMrxmjQLt_I/AAAAAAAANzk/usAqBSx6Mh4/s288/iphone_photo.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='280' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />Choose some baby leeks, chop them and cook<br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-CHOsk8g85bs/WMrxq3KzNUI/AAAAAAAANzo/58-2uejEfFc/s288/iphone_photo.jpg'><img src='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-CHOsk8g85bs/WMrxq3KzNUI/AAAAAAAANzo/58-2uejEfFc/s288/iphone_photo.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='280' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />Add some spring greens, nettles and whatever else you've got that's green and edible. Add the cheese sauce and top off with crumble.<br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-4-N_9bwWWVY/WMrxsjlb7rI/AAAAAAAANzs/Z9piBuvg6o8/s288/iphone_photo.jpg'><img src='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-4-N_9bwWWVY/WMrxsjlb7rI/AAAAAAAANzs/Z9piBuvg6o8/s288/iphone_photo.jpg' border='0' width='1600' height='1600' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />Then wonder around outside in the sun whilst it cooks dreaming of all the wonderful things to come ...<br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-b9ZXSL7mWCU/WMrxvunpKfI/AAAAAAAANzw/C-kxcTPdjNA/s288/iphone_photo.jpg'><img src='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-b9ZXSL7mWCU/WMrxvunpKfI/AAAAAAAANzw/C-kxcTPdjNA/s288/iphone_photo.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='280' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /> <br /> Sunflowers and mangetout<br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-TfpqkzfinIA/WMrxx9M7GgI/AAAAAAAANz0/TXwOyjP-wUY/s288/iphone_photo.jpg'><img src='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-TfpqkzfinIA/WMrxx9M7GgI/AAAAAAAANz0/TXwOyjP-wUY/s288/iphone_photo.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='280' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /> Lovage<br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-xj8Rx1B2QT0/WMrxzpychgI/AAAAAAAANz4/dTbsp4gBwKI/s288/iphone_photo.jpg'><img src='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-xj8Rx1B2QT0/WMrxzpychgI/AAAAAAAANz4/dTbsp4gBwKI/s288/iphone_photo.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='280' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /> Purple sprouting broccoli <br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-BCYazPo7ly8/WMrx2LRqqzI/AAAAAAAANz8/oDPrEDtGtBQ/s288/iphone_photo.jpg'><img src='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-BCYazPo7ly8/WMrx2LRqqzI/AAAAAAAANz8/oDPrEDtGtBQ/s288/iphone_photo.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='280' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /> Forget-me-nots<br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-MeLlnqo80iU/WMrx4f_vvVI/AAAAAAAAN0A/8fP_mht54eo/s288/iphone_photo.jpg'><img src='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-MeLlnqo80iU/WMrx4f_vvVI/AAAAAAAAN0A/8fP_mht54eo/s288/iphone_photo.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='280' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /> Rhubarb<br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-FsMBUjATOGE/WMrx6t96TbI/AAAAAAAAN0E/HOOmbEgYMFc/s288/iphone_photo.jpg'><img src='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-FsMBUjATOGE/WMrx6t96TbI/AAAAAAAAN0E/HOOmbEgYMFc/s288/iphone_photo.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='280' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /> And delphiniums<br />Susie Basshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07046166398632226398noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9189716414328540312.post-28923816263744516502016-12-16T05:26:00.000-08:002016-12-16T05:26:24.104-08:00The art of dressmaking<br />
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<span class="x_s1" style="font-family: '.SFUIText-Regular'; font-size: 17pt;">It was in <a class="" href="http://www.wovember.com/">Wovember</a> 2015 when I discovered that woad was a plant that could easily be easily be grown in the garden and<span class="x_Apple-converted-space"> </span>used to dye textiles. Not only was it a natural dye, but it was blue in colour, a beautiful blue. We all love an internet journey, those timewasters where you get sidetracked here, click on the link there, and boom there is an explosion of ideas. From learning about the joys of British wool from the Wovember web site, I investigated local yarns and discovered <a href="http://www.southdownsyarn.co.uk/">Southdown Yarns</a>. I wanted to know the whole story and I was curious about hand dying. I wanted to know how the stuff worked and someone was there to tell me. Let's internet-hop over to <a href="http://www.jennydean.co.uk/">Jenny Dean</a>. It wasn't enough for me to just read the articles, I wanted the <a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Heritage-Colour-Natural-Dyes-Present/dp/1782210369/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1481887182&sr=1-1&keywords=a+heritage+of+colour">book</a>. It was the start, owning the information and words to help me to obtain my new crazy dream; gardening and sewing a handmade homemade ethical garment. People who don't garden might not know that the winter is spent planning next spring's growth but I certainly do. I found the woad seed, I discovered that you could wee on then to fix the dye and I even had my own boy, ready and willing to do this.</span></div>
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<span class="x_s1" style="font-family: '.SFUIText-Regular'; font-size: 17pt;">From tiny seeds grow great plants so in my little greenhouse I set about planting the future. Oh it takes a long time for seeds to grow but I cared for them throughout the summer. Of course not wanting to follow the rules, I did not harvest my dye stuff at the correct moment, being the height of summer. Timing is always difficult with plants and to create my dye bath I needed there to be no distraction from tiny people. So I waited until that imaginary kid-free day in the future.</span></div>
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<span class="x_s1" style="font-family: '.SFUIText-Regular'; font-size: 17pt;">Meanwhile, on this truly marvellous adventure to homemade, handmade, meet the maker, non-commercial, independent, ethical dress, I needed to find the perfect pattern. We have an annual excursion to the Knitting and Stitching Show at Alexandra Palace and following last year's success of "you must make what do you buy", I went with an agenda. As yet I have not written about my fraught journey to the simple life, my experimentation with minimalism or my new zero waste aspirations, but had these ideals in the forefront of my mind when it came to purchasing goodies at the show. I wanted a d</span><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText-Regular'; font-size: 17pt;">ress that matched my </span><span style="font-size: large;">new-found</span><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText-Regular'; font-size: 17pt;"> values and </span><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText-Regular'; font-size: 17pt;"><a href="http://www.sewmesomething.co.uk/index.php" target="_blank">Sew Me Something</a> was</span><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText-Regular'; font-size: 17pt;"> there to fit right in with my new lifestyle choice. Not only was the dress darling but the designer of the pattern and the dress in the fabric were there. Perfect! My number one requirement in a dress is</span><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText-Regular'; font-size: 17pt;"> pockets. This dress has them. It also needs to be roomie enough to move in, I'm going to be gardening and possibly climbing trees and doing stuff. The dress is also pretty and the </span><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText-Regular'; font-size: 17pt;">pattern is made out of actual paper. It's not flimsy, easily wrecked, ridiculously fragile tissue paper, but proper</span><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText-Regular'; font-size: 17pt;"> quality paper that you can stick a pin through without</span><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText-Regular'; font-size: 17pt;"> creating a hole. Check it out <a href="http://www.sewmesomething.co.uk/catalogue_item.php?catID=11785&prodID=87139" target="_blank">here</a></span></div>
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<span style="color: #454545; font-family: '.SFUIText-Regular';">I love the pockets, every plant needs water, it was a "<a href="http://www.flowmagazine.com/things-we-do/hooray-its-raining.html" target="_blank">hooray it's raining</a>" tribute. Inspired by an article from <a href="http://www.flowmagazine.com/" target="_blank">Flow Magazine</a> questioning our negative response to rain and the thoughts of one of my students. He believes that there can't possibly be good or bad weather as it is after all just weather. These pockets are well thought through pockets. They capture and express significant moments from 2016 and will continue to do so as the neverending story of my handmade wardrobe.</span></div>
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<span class="x_s1" style="font-family: '.SFUIText-Regular'; font-size: 17pt;">Anyhow, I have the dyestuff, pattern and the visualisation of a future free from exploitation. I'd like to say I've bought ethical known sourced fabric, but actually, I just got calico from eBay. I guess you can't be perfect. Then finally at the beginning of November (I know nowhere near Midsummer) and made the dye bath and dyed the dress fabric. Dying with woad is magic. There's a few chemicals involved and the liquid eventually ends up this yellow colour. It doesn't look very attractive. The fabric goes in and then it comes out reacts with the oxygen in the air and as if by magic turns blue. Then to accentuate the subtleties of colour and shades of imagination, I dug out my old friend Gac 900 and the fabric art appeared.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #454545; font-family: '.SFUIText-Regular'; font-size: 22.66666603088379px;">Sometimes I get a bit stitchy and I like a bit of embroidery so I thought it was about time my vintage threads made an appearance in my project. I designed a pattern based on my favourite </span><span style="color: #454545; font-family: '.SFUIText-Regular'; font-size: 22.66666603088379px;">plant: cow parsley. It isn't my total absolute favourite </span><span style="color: #454545; font-family: '.SFUIText-Regular'; font-size: 22.66666603088379px;">but I do love it. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #454545; font-family: '.SFUIText-Regular'; font-size: 22.66666603088379px;">The stitches took a long time but slow fashion, that's what it's all about. I could have bought and discarded a whole wardrobe of fast fashion in the time it took me to stitch that pattern. 25 different seasons materialised and became obsolete on the high street and still I sat there needle in hand.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #454545; font-family: '.SFUIText-Regular'; font-size: 22.66666603088379px;">This dress is more than clothing. It is a documentation of discovery, it is so personal that you know that <i><u>unique</u></i> barely describes it. I've worn it once (I only finished it on Sunday) but we already have a history that goes back over 12 months. Love and care and thought and creativity have been crafted into this a dress.</span></div>
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Susie Basshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07046166398632226398noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9189716414328540312.post-55695280233536980052016-12-03T15:16:00.001-08:002016-12-03T15:29:50.866-08:00Window 3 - Frankenadvent socks<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Handmade stuff is more than just bits and bobs you throw together because you can or maybe it's cool or cheaper or more ethical. These Frankenadvent socks are a wearable diary, the fabric of my life with each stitch attached to the memory of a moment.<br />
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Susie Basshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07046166398632226398noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9189716414328540312.post-84300297731159860182016-12-02T07:13:00.002-08:002021-09-30T10:04:54.797-07:00Window 2 - Frankenadvent socksThe kids have now got Where's Wally chocolate advent calendars so it's time to get out my incomplete Frankenadvent socks. <br />
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I started my Frankenadvent socks last December and then got overwhelmed by the whole preparation for Christmas extravaganza. Basically they are a mish mash of random yarns and crazy patterns. I have absolutely no idea where I left off last year so I have gone for a simple rib in the same grey as sock number one. <br />
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I don't believe there are any Franken advent socks police and therefore don't envisage any problems other than perhaps not being able to finish them again. Well here we go work in progress/ unfinished project/ Christmas advent tradition.<br />
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- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhoneSusie Basshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07046166398632226398noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9189716414328540312.post-88000885845997089022016-12-01T15:26:00.001-08:002016-12-01T16:12:54.193-08:00Window 1 - All of the lightsSo after my epic mum fail of not purchasing chocolate filled advent calendars before they sold out, I had to do something to make up for it in some way. <br>
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The light is beautiful in December. The sun sets into a milky yellow horizon as the first star shines brilliantly. <br>
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At the beginning of December, each year, we head off into the city centre to see the lights. <br>
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It's a bit of a tradition now, the spotting of the lights and the Jesus Sets.<br>
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We never miss this one. This year the donkey appears to be having a quick nibble of the baby's tootsies. <br>
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It's always a bonus to get some coffee and gingerbread. <br>
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Charlie reckons he can always manage chips so I imagine having got them once on our annual advent jaunt, next year it will be an expectation.<br>
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Finally the Jesus set outside Canterbury Cathedral. With its life sized characters of ethnically appropriate colouring and a basket of baby chicks under the manger, the children, who have seen this every year of their lives, briefly discuss the nativity, turn and walk the short walk home. <br>
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Posted using BlogPress from my iPhoneSusie Basshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07046166398632226398noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9189716414328540312.post-23351704050112499882016-11-25T14:41:00.003-08:002016-11-25T15:06:46.913-08:00Buy nothing day<div style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 18px; margin-bottom: 20px; padding: 0px;">
For some people today is just Friday. There are others however who have been hijacked by consumerism, the shiny, sparkling promise of happiness through the purchase of crap they don't need destined for next year's landfill, trapped in the endless hunt for a bargain. And then there's another group of Friday 25th November 2016 people, those celebrating Buy Nothing Day and that's the gang I'm in.</div>
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But how about the saving money, the kick starting the Christmas shopping and the greedy over consumption of Black Friday, I hear you ask. Well don't worry friends, I'm not tragically behind in the preparations for the crazy season, I have completed a handmade homemade Christmas gift for my nephew. He's too young yet to have his own opinion about what makes a decent gift so I can quite easily pass off anything as acceptable as long as it has an aeroplane on it.</div>
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Of course I did actually spent most of yesterday and today working on the little placemat so although it is not commercially mass produced in a factory by children paid in less than peanuts, it is crammed full of love and unique one of a kindness. </div>
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I did offer my own little darling boy one very similar but he very politely declined.</div>
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Even though it's got a tiny bird on it, I guess that it isn't the same as a branded product.</div>
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I suppose the trickiest thing with the whole gift giving shabang is balancing what you'd like to give (ethically) and what they'd like receive, because there really is nothing more pointless than buying something unwanted. </div>
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And then finally to finish off my Black Friday Day of buying nothing, I darned the socks that I made for my husband last Christmas. With all the craziness in a world gone mad for the latest must have can't live without it , it's comforting to know that I have atleast two people in my life who will buy into my homemade handmade Christmas. </div>
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Susie Basshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07046166398632226398noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9189716414328540312.post-54150437568336417102016-10-09T11:56:00.001-07:002016-10-09T12:19:21.783-07:00Autumn Skies<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 19px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitRMblAx59apgXmmjVW5Vje9akNZ9Lg65PmQPABPY6pMNskFrynr2b0C6kaNcKwACJvEngb3o-skCNU1LD9Y4A9RrElcGCewMkxEmhNOwrq2eauuKMCzffB5H33lE9JqyQc9cVkXd9qUoB/s640/blogger-image-625420646.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitRMblAx59apgXmmjVW5Vje9akNZ9Lg65PmQPABPY6pMNskFrynr2b0C6kaNcKwACJvEngb3o-skCNU1LD9Y4A9RrElcGCewMkxEmhNOwrq2eauuKMCzffB5H33lE9JqyQc9cVkXd9qUoB/s640/blogger-image-625420646.jpg"></a></div><br><p></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 19px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"><br></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 19px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';">Sometimes it's impossible to ignore the weather. Today the heavens have opened, the sun has shone and the sky has changed from the bluest of blue to ominous grey. Rainbows have appeared and vanished after filling the skies with colour.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 19px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"><br></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 19px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhioLO66eRUaJniAgubdpYMQoQQyjfVUGv0Y_Xk5DkYpNe7CfZTZvIzPO7Xfw63XnYzKfr_u1K5lZ1Dz6eoq8Nhz8PyAen0iP94OSnORQ6oMnEYwiz1mqUUOUHQwYxVnpneVXMIxIZ4d6RZ/s640/blogger-image-88402793.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhioLO66eRUaJniAgubdpYMQoQQyjfVUGv0Y_Xk5DkYpNe7CfZTZvIzPO7Xfw63XnYzKfr_u1K5lZ1Dz6eoq8Nhz8PyAen0iP94OSnORQ6oMnEYwiz1mqUUOUHQwYxVnpneVXMIxIZ4d6RZ/s640/blogger-image-88402793.jpg"></a></div><br><p></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 19px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 24px;"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"></span><br></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 19px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';">It's also noticeably colder. Hats, mittens, fingerless gloves and scarves are at the ready in fact I have had them on several mornings since October started. Since having Sherlock I notice the weather more. The rain is not a problem. He is not keen but once we get going a walk is a walk, rabbits are there to be chased, squirrels are there to be barked at and foxes are there to be discovered.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 19px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"><br></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 19px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-RnBYLMXMVDUTdW0_KnCM8Wo8nn_9l-QjlUhimUgivMHty3-_LpLXMIo9Las9AYWNIuFuR5R09ZEleJXMOghzLgUwRZhjzrVSTBiWFSeyA1fPymYhJIC8_I2GH89k7dIuCJC45cGjI9en/s640/blogger-image--143025339.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-RnBYLMXMVDUTdW0_KnCM8Wo8nn_9l-QjlUhimUgivMHty3-_LpLXMIo9Las9AYWNIuFuR5R09ZEleJXMOghzLgUwRZhjzrVSTBiWFSeyA1fPymYhJIC8_I2GH89k7dIuCJC45cGjI9en/s640/blogger-image--143025339.jpg"></a></div><br><p></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 19px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 24px;"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"></span><br></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 19px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';">Autumn has arrived and with it the end of the growing season. My dahlias enjoy the colder mistier mornings and are showing no sign of giving up yet. However the summer lettuces have been replaced with those that will with stand the winter and the planting of seeds will now wait until the spring. Small seedlings of climbing beans, field beans and sweet peas are growing in the greenhouse and secretly growing within plain sight are the stars of the autumn, my chrysanthemums.</span></p>Susie Basshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07046166398632226398noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9189716414328540312.post-47046287826570992762016-08-26T05:11:00.001-07:002016-08-26T05:11:10.349-07:00Flowers on FridayAs we head towards the end of the summer holidays, I can safely say that I have achieved very little of what I set out to achieve over what is laughingly referred to as "time off". The kids however have had a blast and seeing as I gave up all right to my own life, space or even air to breathe the second I viewed that double blue line, I must have done something right. So in celebration, here are some flowers on Friday.<div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNHnwZ8l1GLQ_NMiOZ2tm3m0FwgZUQWDZa8Oy_MldHckjuVyVIaU88hUZLEw8WnGzhL4IO4kR3Zi3E5cYj2AfD9EvVdI-gPNVmewM1LGtuxzEZfuVud-giNMtcF7DTf3fJxca0wBrET-iw/s640/blogger-image-755052213.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNHnwZ8l1GLQ_NMiOZ2tm3m0FwgZUQWDZa8Oy_MldHckjuVyVIaU88hUZLEw8WnGzhL4IO4kR3Zi3E5cYj2AfD9EvVdI-gPNVmewM1LGtuxzEZfuVud-giNMtcF7DTf3fJxca0wBrET-iw/s640/blogger-image-755052213.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigOh7ioaJqe6mvS0j3PcW1_U3auyglOBOC7DhpvcxOBzVHzmRHwShS9-iP5wIaJQYDgIYwYQY3O5syGc4vrSZ5DAhyphenhyphenZbRC6L-9O6CZt2iWbpgo2LfTXHUtAxqDIaR_cJ1grvxSf48rjLEG/s640/blogger-image-1546765495.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; 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margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiIfUkzJod0y2ABkYDoP-cd7Riv_Ra-md6FY-y7B4wiSjxryVUDMJ24hQeqxOji-9DoVMSyKBNSwb7ZRMim1jwQ5U9ts_K42qQhR8ZT36umLXiUufjhB9vVSFQ8WGbG7nnZrIr5i5Y8JYx/s640/blogger-image-402253710.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgETtJ8sHoJZ4Ijch31UZsIq4vlpmj-4d5xLv22JYxX3rIrr7CbkYh9rtP4haVVfXsHV8ZAzFL0Q0jbyK6v1KUvLHS_Fy0nDTXpbGxKFD1T7deGLo7Plq_BnKIFnncUnveldMHZiCoNEkuG/s640/blogger-image-943812791.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgETtJ8sHoJZ4Ijch31UZsIq4vlpmj-4d5xLv22JYxX3rIrr7CbkYh9rtP4haVVfXsHV8ZAzFL0Q0jbyK6v1KUvLHS_Fy0nDTXpbGxKFD1T7deGLo7Plq_BnKIFnncUnveldMHZiCoNEkuG/s640/blogger-image-943812791.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqWERDHFTAsGScTSYne-LaFhUayVDjOoYQabGVK9xY1tBnjG-4W0c2F-Xr-vHH2Nt3Ot9d6m8umTsYJLyXHm2vfO_2BaoMCmghEmzD6UPWMSiDN06tIqnvEifuvtzmlRJz0nEmOpWvpSvL/s640/blogger-image-293927068.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqWERDHFTAsGScTSYne-LaFhUayVDjOoYQabGVK9xY1tBnjG-4W0c2F-Xr-vHH2Nt3Ot9d6m8umTsYJLyXHm2vfO_2BaoMCmghEmzD6UPWMSiDN06tIqnvEifuvtzmlRJz0nEmOpWvpSvL/s640/blogger-image-293927068.jpg"></a></div><br></div><br></div><br></div>Especially for Zoe and Samantha, because feeling ill is rubbish 💕</div><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></div>Susie Basshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07046166398632226398noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9189716414328540312.post-53037800119798713012016-07-08T13:12:00.001-07:002016-07-08T13:12:13.707-07:00Flowers on FridayThe skies are a little grey today but the colours of my flowers continue to sing. For anyone who needs a touch of brightness <div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMjDPQBN0tkoGQqfXFlwkjwCyfldvbCA-LkyKmFtubDXCyPAhOwtYHUzypeSLOE72HBobunluzC6klzrCkbgyDi9g0TqG0TsWYpKN8EQUTKSlg5AReJIWUBqc-lI22QhcMyzdPVAToOZcE/s640/blogger-image-1378612601.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMjDPQBN0tkoGQqfXFlwkjwCyfldvbCA-LkyKmFtubDXCyPAhOwtYHUzypeSLOE72HBobunluzC6klzrCkbgyDi9g0TqG0TsWYpKN8EQUTKSlg5AReJIWUBqc-lI22QhcMyzdPVAToOZcE/s640/blogger-image-1378612601.jpg"></a></div><br><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdiCsb3QdXbg5sMGd4T4tcpURuGCzYnarQ0e6u50KcaePKUBBwoz_qBQ4Ec3uapyJcPpfq3yNrXSZij5ZvodDR7pHh3Xa45G9er2PeNe30bqQtjDzSsCfKYAIVHUjbT0t-djQoehJlVN6A/s640/blogger-image-19707053.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; 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