Originally posted 19/07/26

Life is a sequence of repeating cycles and this week sees the beginning of another cycle for me. I have 147 days to find a new home! This tiny miner’s cottage was only ever to be a stepping stone towards my forever future and so, my search begins.
 
I know what I need and what I’d like. I need a writing room downstairs to aid and ease Teddy’s old age, a view of a garden and large windows, enabling lots of natural light. I need a passing road, not a court yard or a cul-de-sac location, where life trundles by offering me surprises and observations throughout each day. I need a separate lounge into which I can escape after a day at my desk to enjoy my array of books and houseplants, without being reminded of the current project. I’d like a patch of grass that my tortoises can utilise and which aids Teddy’s aged limbs while he plays football or fetch. 
 
I can’t say I relish the idea of packing removal boxes; it feels like yesterday that I unpacked ‘the final box’ for this home. But time flies and I’m ready to move on. 
 
And so begins my search, knowing that I will spend Christmas day in a new home – a repeat of last year’s situation. I’ll attempt to ensure that my Christmas tree is the first delivery to the address, just like it was in December 2025.

Update: I did it! I have a new home in the pipeline. It took just 33 days to find my new nest! I am so excited that I can't actually believe it. Maybe it is fate. Or Karma - I don't care which but this girl is on the move and I'm loving the prospect of another new start! Roll on September! 

This morning has been filled with admin for the house move but also the realisation that I will need to pack every item and ready myself for yet another 'writing room'. I'm thrilled at the thought of large windows, freshly decorated rooms and the beginning of yet another new chapter! 

1st September: I have new keys! 

Yesterday, I attended college for the first day of a new academic year 2026/27. It felt quite surreal. I work part-time at the local college so split my time between teaching and writing!

This year, I have a brand-new classroom - which always feels strange! I positioned my rescue plant, an African violet, which I'd saved from a local garden centre the day before on the windowsill. Hopefully, she will bloom in the coming months - much like many of my pupils!

I managed to complete a host of work but did take several minutes to reflect on the previous year - my first year at this college. I found myself laughing out loud at one particular memory.

On April 21st, whilst teaching, I happened to mention that Prince had died ten years ago today. That's me, that's how my brain works. My pupils stared at me. They didn't know who Prince was! I was stunned. What the hell????????? This is part of the course as a teacher - the modern generation, some know very little about what occurs in the world and even less if it happened before their birth date.

I found that a group of eight males were engaging with the conversation so I proceeded, with caution. I explained who the musician Prince was. I named several songs - all of which were unknown to my audience. I went on to explain that Prince plays every instrument on each of his songs by layering the recordings. The small group are impressed, some say that they play the guitar - which is nice to hear. They ask what else he wrote. I mentioned The Bangles' hit 'Manic Monday' - they hadn't heard of it. I'm surprised. I go on to mention Sinead O'Connor and 'Nothing compares to you' which Prince wrote and recorded before her version. My pupils have never heard of the song or her. I'm near to fainting at this point! The rest of class, who had been quietly working, have now tuned in to our music conversation - I'm happy for them to 'take a moment' away from their English work.

My group of eight are still puzzled as to who I'm talking about, when a young chap from the far side of the room asks 'What are you lot on about - repeat the conversation, Miss.' My brain took over, before realising it, I said, 'Nah, I'm not repeating a conversation about a song that no one has heard of, performed by a woman that no one knows, that was written by a genius whose name is unknown to you! Who died ten years ago today!' There was a lengthy pause before someone muttered, 'Miss, you're funny!'  After which, titters of laughter sprung up around the classroom - including me! 

Next lesson, they received the education they truly needed*. For the first time, my white board didn't contain the college rules about mobile phones and hoodies but a YouTube clip primed ready to play. On entering the classroom, their eager little hearts demanded 'what are we doing?' and 'what's going on?' before I pressed play and showed them a clip of Prince and his guitar. Prince wasn't happy with the audiences' participation at the April 2004 concert, which makes me smile. But my students avidly watched and learnt who Prince was! It's moments such as this that make my heart sing - I pray that this new academic year has many similar moments!

YouTube Link: press here 

*Note: students are 16+ so the song choice was 'OK'

Yesterday, I was invited to attend the local library to meet the book club. A group of avid readers who gather once a month to share their thoughts and ideas about the designated reading book. Next month’s pick is one of mine: Retreat to the Lakeside Cottage. I’m not available in September when they’ll be discussing their thoughts, but was available to attend this month when the book was issued to each member. 
 
I arrived half way through their meeting, just after they’d discussed Margaret Attwood’s short stories – which seemed to gain much praise and delight. The librarian handed out the paperbacks as I settled into the ‘hot seat’ for a brief question and answer session. I’d meet a couple of the members before at ‘author talks’ I’d given, and some had read other books of mine, but no one had read this particular story. 
 
I started by giving a rough outline of my writing journey. I explained how much I love attending writing retreats and so the premise for a book began to emerge. I outlined the structure of creating three female characters, of various ages, as the story tellers and wove a plot line depending on their strengths and weaknesses. I’ve added a lot of humour and fictionalised some observations from real life to create a book set in Hawkshead.
 
I wanted to avoid spoilers but did explain that Beatrix Potter had connections to both Hawkshead and Hilltop, Near Sawrey – which are part of the story.
 
We spent an enjoyable hour discussing all things writing, reading habits and the love of books before each member drifted off, each with my paperback in their possession. I wish each of them a truly enjoyable month of reading! 


Book blurb: Welcome to the Lakeside Cottage . . . A place to write, where inspiration awaits . . .

Five authors have gathered at the idyllic Lakeside Cottage for a retreat, with the promise of peace and dedicated writing time. At least, that's the idea . . .

Retreat organiser Rula is there to edit, surrounded by like-minded souls. An interloper, especially one with whom she has a past, was certainly not part of her plan.

Eve has a bad case of writer's block, despite numerous bestsellers under her belt. Can she find new inspiration? Or will she get drawn into the dramas that unfold around her?

Alice has a deadline looming but is seemingly more interested in anything but writing. And where does she keep disappearing to?

Daphne is an experienced self-published author, but might she be more unconventional in other ways too?

And then there's Brontë, the complete novice. She's a mere scribbler, not a 'proper writer' like these other women, and she feels totally out of her depth.

As the collective word count grows, and their personal stories interweave, each woman finds herself drawn in unexpected and life-changing directions.

I will find you in this life,
the next and in every form that follows. 
If I am the dust on the wind, I’ll settle by 
your side and whisper to you in the quiet.
If I’m a leaf on the autumn wind, I will drift closer
Just to be next to you. 
In each new world, no matter the shape or form I take. 
I’ll keep coming back to you.
And I’ll carry this love. 
Across all the lifetimes that is ours.
Across every rise and fall. 
You, always you.


Today, this poem appeared as I scrolled social media .... how perfect.    

Today, I took myself off for a 'breakfast treat'. It’s been a while since I did this, or even had time to enjoy such a leisurely start to the day. 
 
I ate my breakfast alfresco-style at a high street café, whilst people watching and reading my book. Seeing each store prepare to open for business reminded me of my bank clerk days when I was just eighteen. We’d arrive when the street was sleepy and quiet, with only dustbin men and window cleaners sharing our space, yet come nine o’clock the street would be bustling. This street was no different. It reminded me of the opening scene of the film Notting Hill.
 
I spotted a friend. They were in a world of their own happily strolling down the street, minding their own business and enjoying the sunshine – which was wonderful to see. It was strange seeing someone’s psyche spot my presence before they actually noticed me. It just shows how our sub-conscious is wired.
 
I saw some beautiful dogs being walked ahead of the day’s heat, especially the dalmatian and so many sausage dogs! I spoke to random strangers, who I don’t know from Adam but clearly, they felt the need to speak - I wished them a good day. I even spoke to a purple dinosaur!
 
I’ll admit, I enjoyed the hour of sitting and observing before taking a stroll around the craft stores - so much talent and inspiration surrounds us, if only we look. 
 
After my morning’s treat, I came back home for a day of writing – hoping to complete a specific scene before the day is through. Plus, a promise to myself to put ‘breakfast treats' back into my routine. 

At 1am this morning, I stood on my front drive looking at the terraced house, five doors down, that was on fire. I kid you not, a total blaze. The street was filled with fire engines, police cars and shocked neighbours.
 
It was a frightening scene. 
 
Your heart goes out to the young family, who I later learnt were away on their annual holiday. Your brain immediately puts yourself in their shoes. To lose a lifetime of items must be heart breaking. The photographs, the documents and the memorable items that can never be replaced – simply gone!
 
Today, a strange silence has descended upon our street – plus, there’s a blackened house that has drawn quite a crowd of passing sight-seers, be it on foot or those slowly driving passed.
 
This afternoon, I saw the young couple, returning from the airport, to be advised by the fire officer of a sequence of events. Devastating.
 
The realities of life, hit home, as we each count our blessings.
 
Should the unfortunate ever happen to me – I know what I’d grab:
 
My dog
My three tortoises
A white tissue – kept in the back of my purse
A bracelet - a family heirloom
My laptop
My first school photograph, aged five
 
The rest would be left behind.