Today

Yesterday I saw the first design ideas for The Unwinding. There’s more about that here:

I love what Alison has done here, how the space sits so right in the eye.

Today began with reading, then walking at the beach in Abereiddi in search of stones. I left behind a riverstone from Dulverton, gilded, placed in water.

The storms have changed the beach there so much and soon there will be nowhere to park, and the sea may claim the houses. But for now it looks so beautiful, wild, and flooded. So much rain! The golden reeds looked beautiful.

I found stones, brought them home, including one special sliver that was written on by time.

Back home I settled to paint, and think. I’m away again this weekend. First in the foyer of the festival at Hay where Nicola Davies and I will be reading from our books and from Letters to the Earth. I want to read Rob Cowen’s Starlings and maybe Nick Drake’s poem. Then on Saturday morning I will be in conversation with Mererid Hopwood and Peter Florence. We hope to conjure foxes, in ink, colour and word. For this, this evening I have been prepping a beautiful piece of paper, with the fox spell by Robert Macfarlane written on it. The original, made on stage in front of the audience will be auctioned to raise money for the Hay Festival Foundation.

While I was working on this I gilded a few of the stones I had collected today.

The most amazing one is the slate with the fossils in.

I love the way time has left its mark of life in this stone.

I have been cleaving to home, and listening to the radio. It’s warm (ish) at the moment, but wet, so wet. The Big Green Bookshop have been running a campaign to provide books for Shelter for Christmas. I’ve never been homeless, although at times we were close to losing our house. I love my tatty home though it is too full with stuff. It’s cosy. And I am lucky. This evening I am warm by the fire, and though I am working too late it is quiet, with the peaceful sound of animals dreaming. Fishheads ( Zephyr) is across my shoulders, Pi and the White Cat curled in formation by the fire, Ivy on the sofa, Spit on top of the ladder. Rosie has retreated to find a cooler place and Elmo is in the dog bed. Yesterday they were all like this:

Soon I will read a book. But what if I were homeless?

Over the next few weeks I hope to sell the odd thing here and there for either the Big Green Bookshop’s appeal for Shelter ( a collection of books for people who are homeless) or for BBC Radio 4 appeal for St Martins, whose aim is to help people to find a place to live, a place of safety.

Every time I go out into cities, towns, I am shocked at the rise of homelessness. You can look away, pretend it’s not there, pretend they all beg on the streets and go home to their penthouses. Or have brought everything on themselves. But we are all a step away from such disaster, and sometimes our plans, hopes, dreams don’t work out.

I use books as a way to escape, but also a way to learn. One of the finest I have read recently was The Salt Path by Raynor Winn. If you read it, it might change the way you see homeless people. I know for myself it is hard to see people bedding down outside Waterstones in Trafalgar Square knowing my books are warm and safe inside.

And I wonder, if you were homeless, is there one book you would wish to have with you?

First thing to be sold, otter labels. Good for framing, or very expensive bookmarks. £50 each. Only top and middle right still available. Email me before donating.

The second thing is the Red Fox remnant of red gold transfer leaf. £60 again email me to secure before donating. It’s up to you whether you choose Radio 4 appeal or Big Green Bookshop. I think the gold square is 8 cms sq.

Also I have some gold leaf labyrinths in various shades of gold. Again these look good framed and make incredibly luxurious book marks. £55 to either of the above. These are fragile fragments, but then, aren’t we all?

Now, time to read, drink tea, be glad of the comforts of home.

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