Before I went to London I played with my new desk, making a space for it and myself in a jumble of rubble and stored things. It now looks like a shrine to Robin Hobb.
On my return I found ruby jewels in the garden.
And London? Well. The Pop Up Festival began this week and they have so much planned. It is ambitious, expansive, inclusive, exciting, enticing, informing, playful and much much more.
I met and talked to children in a library, The West Library, in Islington ( and in my mind, Neverwhere by Neil Gaimon). Then the next day I went to The Grant Museum and as a result am now haunted by a jar of moles. So many stories tied up in this place. I think for me the most disturbing thing I saw was the Tasmanian Tiger skin and skeleton. For the children the most disturbing thing was probably me telling them how polar bears lick the ice clean after a kill. Perhaps a bit too graphic and I don't think any of them will ever ask for one of those slush puppy things you get in newsagents again.
And meanwhile I found that my garden obsession could continue as Robin and I wandered a wonderful city allotment while Robin's brother Jeremy picked strawberries for our supper.
I have so much work to do. And supper calls. In the oven, butternut squash, bright golden, roasting to be made into soup, and beetroots also roasting in their deep red for a beetroot and yoghurt creation tomorrow.
