It arrived this morning, a hard frost still on the ground. Two lovely men heaved it up 3 flights of stairs
to my room at the top of the house. My snuggle chair - making the space feel like a home. This is a before photo as in time I may get it recovered and then there'll be an after photo as well. I'm sitting in it now typing this blog - wanting it to be a bit wider for my elbows - but maybe it isn't a writing chair - maybe it's a reading, dreaming, snoozing chair.
I've decided that roast potatoes count as extreme self care. Especially on a week night and especially if you parboil them, rough them up in the pan with sea salt and a dousing of polenta flour, roast them in a puddle of olive oil and always snaffle one or two straight from the pan - scrunchy crisp on the outside, pillow soft on the inside - before you dish them up for anyone else.
This afternoon, I did something I've been feeling very deprived of - going to the movies. My husband can't follow films any more. I sat in the back row of the little Barn Cinema at Dartington, with a friend and a paper cup of hot chocolate and watched the new re-make of Testament of Youth - the memoir of Vera Britten, about the first world war. Her brother and her fiancé and a friend who loved her were all killed. I found it too hard to watch - too much suffering, too much anguish and pain close up on the screen. Too much pointless death.
Afterwards she became a pacifist and it was women like her who fought for us to have the vote and the equal rights I now take totally for granted. At least in this country - but not if you are a woman in Saudi Arabia.....
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