Vulpes Vulpes

The Way Through the Woods - Hester Cox

Uuju aka Paula (Finland) -Kesakettu (The Summer Fox) from the Fox series, 2012

Hello, Mr Fox - Belle and Boo

Too soon perhaps

Photo by groene_inkt on Flickr

Un ami pour Lucas

Photo by _bobi + bobi on Flickr

When They Go Low, You Go High

So said Michelle Obama during the presidential campaign that, despite highlighting Trump's worst behaviours, saw him crowned as president. And yesterday saw his inauguration in Washington D.C.

There was a bit of a difference from when Obama became president, just a teensy, weensy bit.

It was the weather that kept the crowds away...or they forgot....or....

His equally abhorrent VP - Pence, who believes gay people can be "cured".

So today was the #womensmarch and it went global. If yesterday filled everyone with dread then today showed that hope is still alive. Starting in New Zealand and Australia, with the timezone differences, it grew in strength as each continent woke up, made their placards and hopped on the bus or train.

Follow these links to see what happened in Denver, Chicago, Washington D.C., St Louis. You get the idea. Since yesterday the White House website has scrapped their pages on LGBT rights, climate change, immigration, health care. Trump is going to be every bit as bad as imagined. Never mind about giving him a chance. A chance to do what? He has shown what he intends to do and it's not good (unless you're an old, white, rich man or are married to one).

A friend said to me the other day (on Trump) that the darkest hour is before the dawn. I think we have our new dawn. Now if people would just protest against injustice here like that...no?

Friday 13th

It wasn't the mad masked man, Jason Voorhees, who showed up to ruin the day but my own bad penny version. I wish I was strong enough not to let it turn me upside down but I guess I never will be. The worst part is that it worked it's way between Eldest son and so I sit tonight with a gut-wrenching sadness.

At times like this, I feel adrift, that I wish it would end. Even though I'm aware of how completely unreasonable I'm being. Ten years on and I should have moved away from this but I can't and that's something I have to deal with. Perhaps it's me. It's probably me.

I mustn't leave it like this so here is a comforting image from Elsa Beskow. I've lost my inspiration to draw and paint, I need to get that back, for my own wellbeing. Let that be the anchor that holds me fast when all is churning around me.

It's Cold and January

You would think that being a winter month hints at the temperature to expect but thanks to mild winters caused by climate change (oh, yes) we've been lulled into a comfortable laziness over the cold.

And it does feel colder today than it has for a while. And I hear people in the shop today moan at how chilly it is. It's been just over six years since scenes like this stretched from November until early March.

I admit to having wished for a snowy winter every year since. Especially as, unlike last time, I won't be expected to drive through storms late at night to get to work.

Green Woodpecker ~ Charles F Tunnicliffe

Familiar to anyone fortunate enough to own vintage Ladybird books or to those old enough to have read the originals, Charles Tunnicliffe illustrations brought each subject to life.

He was much more than the illustrator of children's stories, as wonderful and inspiring as those little books were. Born in Macclesfield, England in 1901 he studied at the school of art there before winning a scholarship to the Royal College of Art in London. He later moved to Anglesey, Wales.

Known best for his naturalistic scenes, he worked in several media - including watercolour, woodcut and oil. As well as the Ladybird books, he illustrated many RSPB magazine covers and was a recipient of the RSPB Gold Medal.

After his death in 1979, his personal collection of work was bequeathed to Anglesey council as long as they were kept together and made available for public viewing.

They can be seen at Oriel Ynys Môn gallery.

Of all the things to come across during a browse on YouTube but one which features a very brief glimpse of little me. It's very strange to see but I remember my mother (who took the photo) talking of local historian and film-maker, Eddie Smith, wanting a copy of the photograph which graced the wall of our living room and now is probably tucked up somewhere in my attic.

We lived in the little cottage next to the large white building, which had been a subscription school but was a community hall the entire time I knew it. Sadly, I think it's privately owned now. Our house had been built in 1806, weird that I know the history of each building in my little row.

Lots of familiar faces in this video and I'm sure my dad and mum are in a couple of frames but too far away for me to be sure. It looks like it was always raining, I promise, it wasn't, but what a great name for a blog...

(I'm the wee girl at 4:13 in my natty white jacket and orange bag.)

A New Year Resolution

Gilmorehill in Snow (circa 1930) by Tom Maxwell, Scottish, 1870-1940

Yes, I know, resolutions are a bad idea but bear with me. 

Every day I want to do something creative, even if it's only sharing someone else's talent (in fact that's possibly the better idea).  I have an entire Pinterest board...okay, several, full of inspiring images. This world is going to be difficult and tumultuous enough this year so, for the sake of the mental health of all then I will persevere. 

Let us begin with a Scottish artist and a scene that will be familiar with Glaswegians, that impressive building is Glasgow University. This etching is from around 1930 and is so wonderfully atmospheric, you can hear the crump of footsteps, muffled in the heavy snow. For such a simple piece it conveys the scene entirely. 

I sound like I'm about to disappear into that awful artistic elite speak, I'm not. When you see a piece of art that reaches out and keeps you looking, long after all the details have been taken in, then it's a talent to be appreciated.

Tom Maxwell is not very well-known, which is a shame. He was an illustrator for the Evening Times, a daily newspaper in Glasgow. His home and studio were based in Elmbank Street, Charing Cross, Glasgow. If you go on Google Maps you'll see the street has some original buildings left. The Glasgow City Council town planners have a lot to answer for.

Hogmanay 2016

Gone is another tough year in what seems like an endless parade of tough years. Perhaps 2017 will be better (remembers Trump and Brexit), perhaps not.

Before Rabbie Burns wrote "Auld Lang Syne", before it became the go-to song to sing as Hogmanay made way for the new year there was this -

The Parting Glass is still widely sung in Ireland apparently, or at least in this video it is. That's Celtic culture, though, it wavers between the two countries and for as long as we in Scotland are befuddled by what is our history and what is not then it remains Irelands to claim.

Despite the daft dresses and the obligatory appearance of bagpipes, it is a beautiful song.

Of all the money that e'er I spent 
I've spent it in good company 
And all the harm that ever I did 
Alas it was to none but me 
And all I've done for want of wit 
To memory now I can't recall 
So fill to me the parting glass 
Good night and joy be with you all 

If I had money enough to spend 
And leisure to sit awhile
There is a fair maid in the town 
That sorely has my heart beguiled 
Her rosy cheeks and ruby lips 
I own she has my heart enthralled 
So fill to me the parting glass 
Good night and joy be with you all 

Oh, all the comrades that e'er I had 
They're sorry for my going away 
And all the sweethearts that e'er I had 
They'd wish me one more day to stay 
But since it falls unto my lot 
That I should rise and you should not 
I'll gently rise and softly call 
Good night and joy be with you all

Good night and joy be with us all in 2017, we desperately need it.

Still Raw

Time to lose myself in her books again.

It feels so unfair.

There is an imbalance now, with all these good, iconic, talented people dying before their time. Next year must step up to the mark. And I say that not glibly at all.

Drowned in Moonlight, Strangled By My Own Bra

This year has seen far too many good people die far too soon. Not only did one of my teenage crushes die at Christmas (George Michael) but another hero died today - Carrie Fisher.

I've probably said it before but it bears repeating today but for little me Princess Leia meant everything. Consider the world of the late 70s. Princesses were blonde, pretty, sweet, dainty and in need of rescue.

Along comes Princess Leia. Brave, fearless, rescuing her rescuers and handy with a blaster. Not only that but for once the princess had the same hair colour as me (okay, she was still pretty and there's not much I could do to achieve that but nevermind!) I was constantly hearing how I couldn't possibly be pretty or noticeable as, unlike my younger cousin, I wasn't blonde.

Yes, my mother's family had a lot to answer for my lifelong lack of confidence.

Add to this mix the fact that Carrie Fisher was a witty, underappreciated writer, candid in discussing her mental health and it all explains why I am genuinely sad that she has gone. She was only 60 for god's sake, and George Michael was 53. These are not people whose time had come.

Princess Leia became General Organa in the new film, please let young girls see her as a role model rather than some of the vapid, dead-eyed "celeb". Be tenacious and know everything is possible. 

And now there will be no more Leia.

This year has been terribly depressing and for someone with depression anyway it has meant a change in medication! Not quite working as life has been so bad and we've still got Brexit and President Trump to look forward to.

Has this year been an icon rapture?

"Resentment is like drinking poison and waiting for the other person to die. " 

— Carrie Fisher

Because The Best Christmas Film Isn't Die Hard Or It's a Wonderful Life

Fra-Gee-Lee. Must be from Italy.

And Today I Feel Like Listening To...

Ella Fitzgerald - Bei Mir Bist Du Schoen

45 at 45

1. I have synesthesia, in particular when I hear classical music. I have to tune in to it more than I used to and I don't often tell after getting odd looks when I'd describe the colours and shapes.
2. Reading has been my saviour.
3. I'm disappointed that I have never taken to opera and don't find it as moving or entertaining as many do. The storytelling alone should be the hook but maybe I'm not cultured enough.
4. As much as I love the views a fear of heights means I'll never climb a Munro. And I'm okay with that. Sort of.
5. My first name is not the one I started out with.
6. I love walking along beaches but absolutely hate sitting for any length of time on the sand.
7. I would have liked to live in a few different countries.
8. I can spend so long staring intently at a painting I make the security guards at the galleries nervous.
9. I have an addiction to Pinterest but it's an addiction I can happily live with.
10. I also have an addiction to art and stationery supplies and could easily blow a fortune on them.
11. I don't have a fortune and while money isn't a driving factor it would still be nice to have some.
12. For longer than was necessary I truly believed that tv Christmas specials were filmed at Christmas.
13. Although I daydream of sunnier shores I adore crisp, frosty days.
14. I sometimes forget to say thank you and it bugs me for the rest of the day. 
15. Little Red Riding Hood gave me a fear of werewolves that I didn't get rid of until I was older than I should have been! (Yes, I knew they weren't real but the human element...)
16. I'm not too keen on crime fiction but adore Nordic noir. In fact, anything Nordic will do. I watch so much of it I really should be fluent in at least Swedish by now.
17. My tolerance levels have dropped alarmingly.
18. The background scenes of traditional ballets, especially set in forests, have always captured my imagination to the point of distraction.
19. When I was 25 I threw out all my diaries and stories I had written.
20. I gave up drawing and sketching after school and only started again a few years ago.
21. After my dad's death, I found he'd kept old school jotters of mine and a poem I wrote aged 7.
22. I like being part of Europe and hate the thought of where we're headed outside of the EU. In fact, I feel more European than Scottish and I don't feel British at all.
23. I wish I wasn't interested in politics.
24. Knowing that I've made an almighty mess of things I'm hyper-vigilant that my sons do what they want - they just tell me to chill out.
25. I find chilling out impossible sometimes.
26. Being an only child meant I had social quirks that led to bullying because I was different.
27. If I could travel back in time I'd like to redo the 90s and make some changes.
28. The one thing that absolutely sends me insane is being accused of something I didn't do.
29. Sometimes I wish I had done it. Might as well.
30. I want to travel more, a lot more.
31. I'm partially deaf due to two bouts of measles, followed by mumps and then chicken pox at age 8. Any background noise and it's a struggle to distinguish voices so lots of polite nodding goes on. 
32. I missed most of that year of schooling but read an enormous amount of books. School wasn't my favourite place to be so although I was sick, I got to spend my time reading books and comics and watching tv so was happy.
33. For this age, I am nowhere near as successful as I should be. 
34. I am my own worst enemy.
35. When we were 9 one of my friends and I wrote to Jim'll Fix It - so glad we never got a reply!
36. My eldest and I both like to win an argument, this makes for some interesting debates.
37. Saturday's child works hard for a living - don't I know it.
38. My favourite colour is the deep blue of a winter sky when the full moon is out.
39. That's hard to describe so I usually just say purple. (Yes, indigo is close but not quite).
40. I do my best, it's often not good enough.
41. Once upon a time I was a terrible optimist, I must have been so annoying!
42. I will always regret never having another baby but I am happy with my two so maybe what I mean is I wish I could time travel back to spend time with them as babies again. Actually, that is what I mean.
43. I have dyscalculia but didn't find out until my mid-twenties, I thought I was just stupid.
44. I despise people who put others down, who make others feel inferior or worthless.
45. Even if you've been patient enough, or mad enough, to read this list - no one really knows me.

Sinterklaas by Rie Cramer

December, wintermaand (1938)

Marie "Rie" Cramer was born in the Dutch East Indies, October 1887. Daughter of a ship's captain the family first settled in Arnhem, the Netherlands, where she began to study drawing. Continuing at the Royal Academy of Art, The Hague when her family moved there, she published her first books.

Known best for illustrating children's books she also provided illustrations for adult literature.

In The Style of Caspar David Friedrich

Wanderer above the Sea of Fog (1818)

Martta Wendelin (Finnish artist, 1893-1986)

End of Days

I recently joined in with the mass panic attack as America voted in possibly the vilest man they have as President. No, seriously, it's not hyperbole, he truly is vile.

Of course, you would need to have been on the Moon not to have known this yet enough people were content to elect that as their representative, the head of state of their nation. Well, when I say enough the vote broke down thus - 25.something% for Hillary Clinton, 25.slightly more% for Trump and 49% didn't vote. Hardly 'the nation has spoken' and I wonder how that 49% feel today. (I'll ignore the two million plus votes for Hillary over Trump that has appeared in recounts and found down the back of the sofa, as that brings in the argument on the US Electoral College and no one has time for that).

After over two years of frustrating votes (indyref, Tories, Brexit, this) I am about done with democracy. Watching pompous assholes have their over inflated egos pumped further by an electorate pulled along by blustering rhetoric is galling.

Then I remembered. We survived (just) them voting in George W. Bush. Twice. This is not new, this selfish vote. We hope to grow in emotional intelligence with every generation, to evolve into better human beings. But we don't. We just go round in circles and this one has taken us back to 1933.

Samhain Ramblings Of A Lost Mind

I may be still pinging around like a pinball in an arcade machine but there is clarity ahead. A clarity that might just see me open this blog to the viewing public so I better start editing and stop writing daft guff all the time for my own amusement.

2016 has been a rum old year, full of weirdness and not the kind of weirdness that will ever be looked back on fondly. Next month might see a new American President whose campaign has put me in mind of the society in A Handmaid's Tale - a fine book but you wouldn't want to live there.

One thing this year is doing right is autumn. There is a welcome chill in the air, the trees are wearing their finest fiery clothes in their last gasp before winter slumber. It's the season for soups and cosy gloves and is heartily needed, a freshness in the air after such a stale summer.

So, bring it on November, I see you and raise you the challenge of the previous months. Be kind, be generous and let this year slip out without any further horror stories from the powerful, the mess that was the Brexit vote was enough.

A Month is a Very Short Time

Busy yourselves while I try to compose myself. Here, look at the pretty picture.

I should be there right now, not here. Short of a lottery win or success then that ain't happening. Look at the colours, feel the warmth...and relax - squeak!

It's been a month of doing lots and getting nowhere. So pretty much the same old, same old. I seem to be standing still at the moment and while that is normally not something too concerning, it is when you are attempting to push forward and get work going.

Typically, I feel paralysed by self-doubt, I want to run away and hide but at the same time face things and fight them head on. I've lost confidence in any bare talent I had. How can I expect someone to have faith in me when I doubt myself so much?

It was all easy when I was a salaried nobody. I'm still a nobody but this time, no salary to fall back on. I really want to make this work but I shy away from self-promotion which is the sign of an idiot. This lack of grit is galling but also extremely worrying, I have no idea why I'm getting nowhere (apart from the obvious which I have just stated).

I know what I need to do but not how to get noticed, despite the courses I've taken and the seminars I've sat through. This is not the life for a humble introvert!

What am I babbling on about?

Well, I decided to become self-employed; proofreading, editing, content writing, Uncle Tom Cobley and all. My syntax may be woeful on here but I seem to score well on aptitude tests so I must be doing something correct. To think that I used to get any job I went for, how spoiled did that make me?

(Why is it *always* so much easier to write about and promote someone else? Why? It's not fair!)

Rest Day

Music interrupted by the death of the last of the Aunties. She was not the nicest of people (I'm being polite) but she was the only surviving sibling. It brings back memories of my dad, always welcomed but tinged with the regret that I can't tell him how much he meant. Not that such a show wouldn't have embarrassed the hell out of him, I wish I had just gone ahead and embarrassed him.

Today should be a rest day but outside the morning chorus of chainsaws and rumble of building work drifts over from a street away. I'll content my itching anxieties with music to soothe and hope it does the trick.