Here's my latest watercolour painting, which I've called Messing About on the River . Okay, it's a canal rather than an actual river, but narrowboats can go on rivers if they're careful and the water's not too choppy. Choppy water risks tipping them over due to having a flat hull - or so I'm told. What do I know about it, really? I've been on a grand total of two lovely narrowboat cruises and read a bit and watched too many YouTube videos made by people who live on narrowboats, but my direct experience of them is minimal. I quite fancy the idea of living on a narrowboat. The ability to travel around appeals. The lack of space to paint in, and my total lack of any relevant mechanical, electrical or navigational skills would be major obstacles, as could my dodgy knee when climbing lock ladders or, indeed, actually opening or closing any canal locks. Richard would need a second narrowboat just to store his beloved Dr Who collection as there's no way he...

 About a year ago, I was approached by musician Michael Pillitiere, who asked if he could use one of my short horror stories as a basis for one of his compositions. The story, called Make Do and Mend , had been published in Flash Fiction Magazine, which is where Michael had come across it.  He also planned to create an animated film to complete his project, though that idea seems to have come to a halt. Anyway, you can now listen to the audio version of my story accompanied by Michael's music, where it is available for free on Soundcloud. Link:-  https://soundcloud.com/michael-pillitiere/make-do-and-mend Michael Pillitiere · Make Do and Mend

Sun and Moon; watercolour, A3 size; Sept. 2020.  A lone sunflower burst into bloom on the edge of our patio, probably a spilled seed from the bird feeder. Not much escapes the attentions of resident wood pigeons and blackbirds, but this seed somehow defied the daily regiments of rummaging beaks to seize a foothold and flourish. Good on ya, lil' seed. So there it was in all its golden glory, bobbing madly in the increasing wind and about to be spoiled. So I nipped out with a pair of scissors and set it in a vase - where it looked pretty daft, actually, all alone on its own-e-oh. The solution was obvious. Very soon it was joined by more sunflowers and some tall white lilies. And then hubby suggested I paint them. Flower painting is not an area in which I have much confidence; it's way outside of my comfort zone. Yes, I've done two flower paintings recently but these are - so far as I can recall - the only ones I've ever done, and I only did these due to being subject to ...

  So off he goes, back to work after five months of furlough. Am I awful for being a little envious of his prolonged paid holiday? While hubby's been contentedly lounging on the couch, indulging in reading novels and marathon film-watching sessions, I've been melting under itchy PPE and helping to look after people made ill by COVID 19. Some didn't pull through. Each day I'd think,"Is this the day I contract the virus? Will I carry it home to Richard?" His health conditions make him more vulnerable to infection. It has been stressful and mentally exhausting, and yet I've had it easy when compared to the experiences of hospital staff on the designated COVID wards. The place where I work part-time is now free of corona virus/COVID 19. Will we get a second wave?  Your guess is as good as mine, as only time will tell.  Meanwhile, I keep seeing idiots on social media spreading nonsense which implies COVID 19 is a myth and that its dangers have been exaggerated....

My work - this week we began having to undergo weekly COVID 19 tests. Yes, that horse had bolted so long ago it is now lost beyond the horizon. At least I don't have to hike to Bidston train station again for these, as we're using self-administered tests done at work - so we're all breathing on the same office mirror while we poke a cotton bud down our gagging throats then up each rebellious nostril while the manager waits with sterile tube in hand in which to dunk it, and the admin lady rattles away on the computer to log each test. Results are sent to each tested person (and place of work) via text, and the NHS log site assumes everyone has a mobile phone and makes no allowance for those like me who don't. So my results get texted to work, then work emails them on to me - so much for data security! Speaking of daftness, Richard tried to make an appointment to see our doctor. As the surgery is just around the corner and as he was passing it anyway he deci...