Saturday, January 08, 2022

Letter from home

I'm sorry not to have written, but it has been a bad week, apart from Tuesday which was wonderful, because I went for a New Year's picnic on Stanton Moor with Liz 

and we had hot cheesey-veggie flan, crisps, mince pies, chocolate brownies, satsumas,  Christmas serviettes (get us!) 

mulled wine out of a flask, and crackers.

"What did the beaver say to the Christmas tree?"

(answer below)

The rest of the time has been - as my daughter says - pants. 

And I have not blogged about it because I know that there are millions of people worse off than me and it didn't seem right to complain. But then a friend said to me yesterday that everyone is fed up, so I guess I am telling you now because sharing is good.

I am fed up with the smallness and sameness of my life in a pandemic that goes on and on. 

And out there, always in the deep dark background - down there in London - the architects of our national debasement and resulting crapness go on and on. This tweet I came across today sums it up:

And trying not to read the news and to focus entirely on my painting has not brought me joy. I am painting my much-loved quilt again, trying this time to get the colours right and failing. This is the work in progress. There is shading to be done on some of the colours and there are some flowers to add, and the pale yellow at the top has yet to be painted. There are some good bits, but overall I am sick of it. I am going to plow on and then do something big and impressionistic to cheer myself up.

Anyway...I don't know how many of you read the comments section on the blog, but a new blog reader asked under the last post, which of my books she should start with. Please will you tell her what you think? Either in the comments section below, or under the last post. There are quite a few there now.

Thank you.  

* Cracker joke answer - It's been nice gnawing you.


Lina said...

Sue, Please keep on writing your blog posts - many of us are feeling the same as you and reading your blog cheers me up, makes me smile and reassures me that I'm not on my own in the terrible, awful present. Which of your books to start with: 'Days are where we live@ (which I've read twice and enjoyed it just as much the second time, if not more) and 'I told you last year I loved you'.

Sue Hepworth said...

Thank you for your encouragement, Lina. I’m glad it’s ok to moan and I’m so glad you like my blog.
Also - how heartening it is that you’ve read Days Are Where We Live twice!

Bladesgirl said...

Thank you Sue - and Lina.
I’m sorry you’ve not had such a good week. I share your feelings entirely about the pandemic, the government and the situation generally.
Just when I thought things were looking up after my mum’s passing, another family member has unexpected health issues - not COVID related, hence my rather late replies.
I’m hoping your books will give me an escape for a while. I’ll let you know how I’m getting on.
Thanks and all good wishes,

Sue Hepworth said...

Hi Karen,
I'm so sorry about the latest family sadness.
I hope things improve.
And I wish you a good holiday.

Message from blog reader Chris:
'I’m tempted to say that your latest book would be a brilliant taster/introduction to your wonderful novels. However … for me, everything has to be read IN ORDER, so that is what I would recommend!'

marmee said...

Sue knows my fave is But I told last year I loved you...helped me through a tough bit of my life that book did. I would come home in the evening and and jump into it ! Yes goodness me the pandemic and the pandemic and the pandemic how long how long??! Here by me we lost a beloved leader. Archbishop Desmond Tutu , our Arch died on christmas day and when I sat down to write my own goodbye I was wooshed back into our/my past and it was salutary. For us the past was soooo bad that I had to say to myself pandemic schmandemic! But that's us and we dont set the bar very high!

Sue Hepworth said...

That’s a very sobering thought about your past in South Africa, Marmee.
And Desmond Tutu was terrific, and it’s a sad loss for the world.