I wrote this post back in October and didn’t publish it till now, March. What a difference six months make. Back then I was staring down the barrel of the tightest of tight deadlines, whereas now, I’m in creative freefall, not actually earning any money but we won’t dwell on that, with time to make stuff, dream up new stuff to make and also enjoy a tiny smidge of what passes for a quiet life in a small country that isn’t currently bearing arms against another one. But let’s not go there.

Anyhoo, here we are in Uncertain Times, knitting, dreaming, trying to recover from falling down a hill in the Cairngorms last July ( takes ages – the healing, not the fall) doing the occasional linocut, writing a weekly Substack newsletter and planning my next project. Next project(s). Also out there campaigning for the Scottish Green Party because I’d prefer a world with hope rather than one where we’re all permanently anxious.

But last October it felt like –

Not sure I’m cut out for losing my weekends. Last weekend was spent nailed to my drawing board, simultaneously loving my work while seriously questioning my life choices.

Weekends were spaces where I could catch up with the tasks I’d dropped during the previous five days. Time to cook for the love of cooking rather than efficiently fuelling us up for the next assault on our energy levels. Weekends were for long walks and bike rides and family lunches. For knitting. Playing fiddle. Drawing and printmaking for the joy of it rather than income.

Instead, I have a workflow chart pinned to my easel. I have tired eyes. I have too much to do and too little time to do it in. I also have a lingering sense of slippage. Of falling behind no matter how fast I pedal.

And my fiddle playing has gone to hell in a handbasket.

As I said earlier – what a difference six months makes. My fiddle playing has returned from Hell in a very nice fiddle case, but needs lots and lots of love. And time. Weekends are spent doing family things, and if no family to be seen, doing things that are not work-related. I’ve made a few new cakes, cooked several new Lentil Variations, one amazing Jamie Oliver Italian hunter’s stew for 24, tweaked my Pasta Norma recipe, banged out several sourdoughs and generally embraced the life domestic. The long walks and bike rides are on hold until I’m through to the other side of the Big Owie, but I have made it down to the riverside and seen the resident otter on more than one occasion.

The deadline was met, the artwork for Dr Purr hand-delivered to London. I’ve tweaked my website and hope to add new stuff very soon. It’s currently pissing down outside, but sitting in the relative warmth of my workroom and happily anticipating lunch is a very fine place to be.

And keeping hope alive, one small action at a time.