The girl who loved stripes, words and seahorses…

creativity, My Sketch Book, writing

Once upon a time there was a little girl. She had pink hair, green eyes and loved stripes.

She wanted to become a writer so she could write stories about clouds turning into dragons, teapots filled with green smoke and horses living in a magic forest ruled by a panther, ridden with trolls and elves.

Treasure hunts and empty spaces

creativity, doodles, My Sketch Book, Nature

“J’arrive quelquefois à ne penser à rien, et même pas comme l’ami Pierrot, à la mort de Louis XVI : d’un coup, je me rends compte que je suis là, que le métro vient de s’arrêter et qu’ayant quitté Dugommier quelques quatre-vingt-dix secondes auparavant, je suis maintenant bel et bien à Daumesnil. Mais, en l’occurrence, je ne suis pas arrivé à penser le rien. Comment penser le rien ? Comment penser le rien sans automatiquement mettre quelque chose autour de ce rien, ce qui en fait un trou, dans lequel on va s’empresser de mettre quelque chose, une pratique, une fonction, un destin, un regard, un besoin, un manque, un surplus…?”

– Espèces d’espaces, Georges Pérec.

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“I sometimes manage to think of nothing, not even, like Raymond Queneau’s Ami Pierrot, of the death of Louis XVI. All of a sudden I realize I am here, that the Metro train has just stopped and that, having left Dugommier some ninety seconds before, I am not well and truly at Daumesnil. But, in the event, I haven’t succeeded in thinking of nothing. . . . How to think of nothing without automatically putting something round that nothing, so turning it into a hole, into which one will hasten to put something, and activity, a function, a destiny, a gaze, a need, a lack, a surplus . . . ?”

-Species of Spaces, Georges Pérec.

There has been an empty space in the woods this year. Something – or rather someone – is missing. We haven’t heard the cuckoo yet. That could well be the very reason why the weather is so wet here.


Crafts, creativity, Knitting, My paintings, Nature, Yoga



I love it when boy and I have a quiet day at home, being together happily doing our own thing. He regularly comes to tell me all about what he is up to and to check what I’m doing, in case it’s of any interest to him – like I’m baking a cake or something…

Today is a quiet day. I keep a hot water bottle against my back, as I sit and paint and sip on a cup of tea. While the watercolour paint is drying I knit a bit more of my fern shawl.