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I have taken to walking to Bay Street, to make sure I have a break from cabin fever. Amongst other things, I have found the best walking path which has 22 plane trees along it (number 12 has a hole in it), an orange cat named Smitty that wanted to bite me, a man digging a hole and most importantly, some time to think my own thoughts. The own thought section is the most enjoyable part. Last week I also found three white leaves tinged with pink – artificial ones – and realised they are the perfect solution to finishing a piece of work, a quandary which has been on my mind for some time now. Excellent result!
I have just returned with a brown woolly (man-made wool) kid’s hoody. It is going to make a great sewing figure…perhaps a nice brown dog with five legs or something.

I love winter. The wattles are in bloom again. The Moreton bay fig leaves slap each other like old harness when it’s windy. The rheumatoid plane trees just wait, silent sentinels rattling their naked upper branches as I pass below them.

I also stooge around in the bookshop for a while, treat it like a library. It makes my brain feel interested again.

The combination of walking + bookshop has today given me five new things to make and do.

Is it time to go home yet?