make gloves not war

So it's snowdrop season and things in the soil are on the move. A mole poked his head up yesterday only to be greeted by a couple of dog snouts and quickly retreated. Up the top of the chimney the rooks are squabbling over nesting rights. You can hear them down the chimney and I was half expecting one of them to come tumbling down and land in the fireplace.

 Also yesterday, Pixie (no picture this time as I'm cross with her and I'm not going to give her social media coverage} ate one of my gloves. They were particularly nice ones too.

 It's a funny time of year up here - so much mud and not many things to divert your eyes to. No trees in blossom as yet or tulips bursting out of pots but it will come and I'm working hard to stay in the moment and just look at the mud without judgement. I am however considering gravelling over the whole lot.

 Next month I am doing a talk on The Boy with the tiger's Heart at Newport University and have managed with the help of the wonderful publicist Olivia at the publishers to put together a slide show to make it more interesting. I'm not very technically minded so hope I can press the right button at the right time. We have put on a series of circus pictures depicting animals in captivity having to do tricks and some health and safety headlines which are just too ridiculous for words.

Beezle going on his way

 Beezle (above) who deserves as much media coverage as he wants as he's never eaten one of my gloves, has told me not to worry too much and has assured me it'll all be alright in the end. As he and Nietzsche would say "You have your way and I have my way. As for the right way, the correct way, and the only way, it does not exist."

the ducks debating which is the way out

Instead of a poem I am putting up this manifesto instead.