A shell in the hand

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          I picked up a shell on Weymouth beach.  Not the usual, touristy end of Weymouth’s beach, far to the left, or right, depending on which way you are facing.

          The sand on Weymouth’s central beach is said to be as good as any sand you’ll find for building sandcastles,  but as you wander along the beach with the view of Portland over your shoulder the sand turns to a mixture of small pebbles and shells.

         Of course, I’m guessing you know me well enough by now to know that a pebble beach to me is treasure beneath my feet.  Within minutes I’d found my shell and as I clasped it tightly in my hand, a smile travelled up to my face.

          Ok, so we’re in Weymouth again. Have we moved yet?  No, unfortunately not, but we’re so close now it’s hard not to hold my breath.

          If I hold my shell up to my ears I can hear the sea inside it, “One Day” is so close now I can almost hear the seagulls when I close my eyes.

          More from before: various visits to “Weymouth“.

Loose ends

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          We’ve hit a bit of a plateau on the moving house roller-coaster,  but we’re in for the duration and we’re still on the ride.

          I’m bored with the whole thing now, before we bought the house we’re in now, we were in rented accommodation and we used to move house regularly,  we’d find someone on the exchange list who wanted to move to our area and we’d swap. Obviously the council or housing association used to have their say, but as long as the house was in good repair, they very seldom said no and the whole kaboodle took sometimes less than a month to arrange.

          It’s frustrating waiting for other people. I’m used to doing things myself, normally I’ll find something which needs doing and get on with it. But we’ve been bumped back to the beginning again and so I can’t even decorate because we have to turn the house into a showhome at the drop of a hat.  I can’t buy anything for the new house, because although we have chosen one, we can’t pay for it yet so it’s had to go back on the market until ours is sold again.

          See… Frustrating.

          I’ve made myself a jumper, nobody needs throws or baby blankets at the moment so I’m at a loose end.

          Pardon the pun, but I’ve just changed the post title from Living in limbo to Loose ends…  I’m making a rug, I’m crocheting a grid of stitches, then pulling through bits of wool in a pattern with a rug hook to make a rug full of loose ends.

          More from before: A little peek further into the world that I’ve “Created“.

The old block

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          “I taught her everything she knows”

                     … I wish…

          But in this case I can accept some of the credit.  Youngest Daughter has caught the baby blanket making bug.

          More from before: A little peek further into the world that I’ve “Created“.